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<i^-<-<- 



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2Dt)e l^iter0iDe iliterature ^ttiti 



THE WHOLE HISTORY OF 

GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 



OB 



TRUE STORIES FROM NEW ENGLAND 
HISTORY, 1620-1803 

BY 
/ 

NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE 



WITH A BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 
NOTES, AND ILLUSTRATIONS 







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'soN, Thoeeau, and Hawthorne. All editions which lack the 
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their heirs. 






Copyright, 1850, 
By NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 

Copyright, 1878, 
Bt rose HAWTHORNE LATHROP. 

Copyright, 1896, 
By HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. 

All rights reserved. 



The Riverside Press, Cambridge, 3fass., U. S. A. 
Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton and Company. 



CONTENTS. 



PART 1. 



A Sketch of the Life of Nathaniel Hawthorne . . v 

Author's Preface xxv 

I. Grandfather and the Children and the Chair . 1 

II. The Puritans and the Lady Arbella. . . 5 

III. A Rainy Day 15 

IV. Troublous Times 18 

V. The Government of New England ... 24 

VI. The Pine-Tree Shillings 29 

VII. The Quakers and the Indians 35 

VIII. The Indian Bible 41 

IX. England and New England . . . . .48 

X. The Sunken Treasure 54 

XI. What the Chair had known 62 

Appendix. Extracts from the Life of John Eliot . 66 

PART II. 

I. The Chair in the Firelight 71 

11. The Salem Witches 74 

III. The Old-Fashioned School 80 

IV. Cotton Mather 86 

V. The Rejected Blessing 93 

VI. Pomps and Vanities 104 

VII. The Provincial Muster 109 

VIII. The Old French War and the Acadian Exiles . 118 

IX. The End of the War 130 

X. Thomas Hutchinson 136 

Appendix. Account of the Deportation of the Aca- 

dians 142 

PART HI. 

I. A New Year's Day 149 

II, The Stamp Act 152 



IV 



CONTENTS. 



ni. The Hutchinson Mob . 
rV. The British Troops iisr Boston 
V. The Boston Massacre 
"VI. A Collection of Portraits . 
VII. The Tea-Party and Lexington 
Vni. The Siege of Boston 
IX. The Tory's Farewell 
X. The War for Independence . 
XI. Grandfather's Dream 
Appendix. A Letter from Governor Hutchinson 



158 
168 
174 
182 
189 
19.5 
202 
209 
217 
223 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 

PAGE 

Portrait of Hawthorne Frontispiece 

King's Chapel Burying-Ground, Boston . . . Facing 14 
Early Yieav of Harvard College .... "26 

A Pine-Tree Shilling ,34 

Facsimile of Title-Page of Eliot's Indian Bible " 44 
Roger Williasis' House, Salem .... Facing 76 

Province House, Boston '' HO 

Map of Acadia 123 

Quebec, 1732 Facing 130 

Portrait of Governor Shirley .... " 150 

Liberty Tree, Boston Facing 156 

The Royal Stamp 157 

Faneuil Hall, Boston Facing 184 

Craigie House, Cambridge " 208 



A SKETCH OF THE 

LIFE OF NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 

4 



EARLY DAYS. 

The old town of Salem, in Massachusetts, was once a 
famous seaport, and ships sailed out of its harbor to the 
ends of the world. In the East Indies so many merchant 
vessels bore the word " Salem " on the stern that people there 
supposed that to be the name of some pow^erful country, and 
" Mass.," which was sometimes added, to be the name of a 
village in Salem. As Boston and New York grew more 
important, they drew away trade from the smaller towns, 
and Salem became less busy. It still has wharves, and 
large, roomy houses where its rich merchants lived, and 
shows in many streets the signs of its old prosperity ; but 
one living in Salem is constantly reminded how famous the 
old town once was, rather than how busy it now is. 

It is doubtful if any town in America has been more 
affectionately set forth in literature than the old Salem of the 
middle of this century. A delightful volume of sketches en- 
titled Old Salem, by " Eleanor Putnam," keeps its fragrance, 
and other writers have loved to dwell upon its quaint flavor ; 
one, in particular, has preserved its charm in a multitude of 
sketches, like Main Street, Little Annie's Ramble, A Rill 
from the Town Pump ; in many of his stories also, but most 
of all in the background of The House of the Seven Gables, 
where Hepzibah Pyncheon in her old shop recalls with the 
precision of fact and the light of rosy imagination more 
than one actual old Salem reduced gentlewoman. 



vi A SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF 

All this is intelligible enough, for in an old house in Union 
Street, in Salem, was born, July 4, 1804, the author of 
these sketches and stories, Nathaniel Hawthorne, and in 
one near by, in Herbert Street, he spent his boyhood. 
The town had already begun to decline when he was a 
boy there ; and as he walked about the streets and listened 
to the talk of people, he seemid always to be in the com- 
pany of old men, hearing about old times, and watching 
the signs of decay. There were strange stories of what had 
happened in former days, especially since Salem was the 
place where, more than a hundred years before, there had 
been a terrible outbreak of superstition ; men and women 
had been charged with witchcraft, and had been put to 
death for it. One of Hawthorne's own ancestors had been 
a judge who had condemned innocent people to death be- 
cause he believed them guilty of witchcraft. A visitor to 
Salem court house is shown now a bottle containing some 
large coarse pins, such as were made a couple of hundred 
years ago, and is told that these pins were found sticking into 
cliildren's bodies, and some old woman was accused of being 
a witch and sticking them in, though no one saw her do it. 
It seems foolish enough to us who look at the old bottle of 
pins to-day, and hear the steam trains and electric cars go 
whizzing by outside, but it was a very serious matter in the 
Salem of witchcraft times. 

Hawthorne was the second in a family of three children. 
Elizabeth was two years older and Louisa four years 
younger. His father was a sea-captain, as was also his 
grandfather, who was a privateersman in the Kevolutionary 
War. Nathaniel was four years old when his father died, 
but his mother lived until he was forty-six years old ; his 
elder sister outlived him, his younger died two years after 
their mother. Whatever character Nathaniel Hawthorne 
received from his father, came, therefore, by inheritance, 
and not much from direct influence ; his mother had more 
to do with shaping his life. She was but twenty-eight years 



NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. vil 

old when her husband died, but in those days, more than 
now, a widow in New England was likely to lead a secluded 
life, and Madam Hawthorne was almost a hermit the rest 
of her days. She was a woman of fine mind, and very 
striking in appearance, looking, as has been said, " as if she 
had walked out of an old picture, with her antique costume, 
and a face of lovely sensibility and great brightness." She 
was left with very little property, so that she could not give 
and receive much company, even if she had not been as 
reserved as she was. Nathaniel's elder sister, Elizabeth, 
writing after his death, to his daughter, says : — 

" I remember, that one morning, my mother called my 
brother into her room, next to the one where we slept, and 
told him that his father was dead. He left very little prop- 
erty, and my grandfather Manning [Madam Hawthorne's 
father], took us home. All through our childhood we were 
indulged in all convenient ways, and were under very little 
control, except that of circumstances. There were aunts 
and uncles, and they were all as fond of your father, and 
as careful of his welfare, as if he had been their own child. 
He was both beautiful and bright, and, perhaps his training 
was as good as any other could have been. We always had 
plenty of books. He never wanted money, except to spend ; 
and once, in the country, where there were no shops, he re- 
fused to take some that was offered to him, because he could 
not spend it immediately. Another time, old Mr. Forrester 
offered him a five-dollar bill, which he also refused ; which 
was uncivil, for Mr. Forrester always noticed him very 
kindly when he met him." 

When Hawthorne was a boy of fourteen, he went with 
his mother and sisters to live for a year in a lonely place in 
Maine. He spent much of his time by himself in the open 
air. In summer he took his rod or his gun and roamed for 
hours through the woods. On winter nights he would skate 
by moonlight, all alone, upon the ice of Sebago Pond, and 
sometimes rest till morning by a great camp-fire which he 



Viii A SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF 

built before a log-cabin. He led a strange, solitary life, and 
formed habits of being by himself which lie never shook 
off ; but he learned also to observe the world about him, and 
his eye and ear were trained like those of an Indian. He, 
himself, says : — 

" I am quite wild, and would, I doubt not, have willingly 
run wild till this time, fishing all day long, or shooting with 
an old fowling-piece ; but reading a good deal, too, on the 
rainy days, especially in vShakespeare and The Filgrirti's 
Progress, and any poetry or light books within my reach. 
Those were delightful days ; for that part of the country 
was wild then, with only scattered clearings, and nine 
tenths of it primeval woods. But, by and by, my good 
mother began to think it was necessary for her boy to do 
something else ; so I was sent back to Salem, where a pri- 
vate instructor fitted me for college. I was educated, as the 
phrase is, at Bowdoin College. I was an idle student, 
negligent of college rules and the Procrustean details of 
academic life, rather choosing to nurse my own fancies than 
to dig into Greek roots and be numbered among the learned 
Thebans." 

Bowdoin College is at Brunswick, in Maine, and one of 
Hawthorne's classmates there was the poet Longfellow, 
whose father lived in Portland. Another of his college 
friends was Franklin Pierce, who afterward was President 
of the United States, and who was able, when in that office, 
to be of material service to his fellow-collegian. Haw- 
thorne had already begun to show that he was to be a writer. 
'• While we were lads together at a country college," he wrote 
once to his friend, Horatio Bridge, an officer in the navy, 
" gathering blueberries in study hours, under those tall aca- 
demic pines ; or watching the great logs, as they tumbled 
along the current of the Androscoggin ; or shooting pigeons 
and gray squirrels in the woods ; or bat-fowling in the sum- 
mer twilight ; or catching trout in that sliadowy little 
stream, which, I suppose, is still wandering riverward 



NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. ix 

through the forest, though you and I will never cast a line 
in it again, — two idle lads, in short (as we need not fear 
to acknowledge now), doing a hundred things that the 
faculty never heard of, or else it had been the worse for 
us, — still it was your prognostic of your friend's destiny 
that he was to be a writer of fiction." 

n. 

FIRST WRITINGS. 

After he was graduated, Hawthorne went back to Salem 
and lived there, with only occasional excursions into the 
country, until 1838. '' It was my fortune or misfortune," 
he once wrote in a brief sketch of himself, ''just as you 
please, to have some slender means of supporting myself, 
and so, on leaving college in 1825, instead of immediately 
studying a profession, I sat myself down to consider what 
pursuit in life I was best fit for. My mother had now 
returned, and taken up her abode in her deceased father's 
house, a tall, ugly, old grayish building (it is now the resi- 
dence of half a dozen Irish families), in which I had a 
room. And year after year I kept considering what I was 
fit for, and time and my destiny decided that I was to be 
the writer that I am. I had always a natural tendency (it 
appears to have been on the paternal side) toward seclu- 
sion ; and this I now indulged to the utmost, so, that for 
months together, I scarcely held human intercourse outside 
of my own family ; seldom going out except at twilight, or 
only to take the nearest way to the most convenient solitude, 
which was of tenest the sea shore, — the rocks and beaches 
in that vicinity being as fine as any in New England. Once 
a year, or thereabouts, I used to make an excursion of a 
few weeks, in which I enjoyed as much of life as other 
people do in the whole year's round. Having spent so much 
of my boyhood and youth away from my native place, I 
had very few acquaintances in Salem, and during the nine 



X A SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF 

or ten years that I sjient there in this solitary way, I doubt 
whether so much as twenty people in the town were aware 
of my existence. Meanwhile, strange as it may seem, I 
had lived a very tolerable life, always seemed cheerful, and 
enjoyed the very best bodily health. I had read endlessly 
all sorts of good and good-for-nothing books, and, in the 
dearth of other employment, had early begun to scribble 
sketches and stories, most of which I burned. Some, how- 
ever, got into the magazines and annuals ; but being anony- 
mous, or under different signatures, they did not soon have 
the effect of concentrating any attention upon the author." 
Here and there, indeed, a reader was found who wondered 
at the strange beauty of his tales, but most passed them by. 
At length, through the help of his old friend Bridge, some 
of the stories were collected and published in a volume 
called Twice Told Tales. It is pleasant to notice that 
Longfellow was one of the first to welcome the book and to 
give it hearty praise in an article in the North American 
Hevieiv. Hawthorne wrote also at this time some short 
sketches of biography and history. 

While leading this quiet, uneventful life, he began to keep 
note-books, in which he recorded what he saw on his walks, 
what he heard other people say, and thoughts and fancies 
which came to him through the day and night. He did not 
make these note-books for publication ; they held the rough 
material out of which he made books and stories, but they 
had also much that never reappeared in his own writings. 
He jotted down what he said for his own use and pleasure, 
and thus sometimes he did not make complete sentences. 
He was like an artist who takes his pencil and draws a few 
lines, by which to remember something which he sees, and 
afterwards j)aints a full and careful picture from such notes. 
The artist's studies are very interesting to all who like to 
see how a picture grows, and often the sketch itself is very 
beautiful, for one who paints well can scarcely heljD putting 
beauty into his simplest outlines ; then, by drawing con- 



NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. xi 

stantly, he acquires the power of putting down what he sees 
in few but vivid lines. After Hawthorne's death, selections 
from his Note-Books were published. One may learn by 
them how to write carefully, just as one may learn to draw 
by studying an artist's sketches. 

These thirteen years meant much to Hawthorne. He 
was learning to write ; he was steadily using the power 
which had been given him, and it was growing stronger 
every year. Yet they were lonely and often discouraging 
years to him. He could earn but little by his pen. Very 
few people seemed to care for what he did, and he loved 
his own work so well that he longed to have others care for 
it and for him. He went back afterward to the chamber 
where he had read and written and waited, and as he sat in 
it again he took out his note-book, and wrote : ''If ever I 
should have a biographer he ought to make great mention 
of this chamber in my memoirs, because so much of my 
lonely youth was wasted here, and here my mind and 
character were formed; and here I have been glad and 
hopeful, and here I have been despondent. And here I 
sat a long, long time, waiting patiently for the world to 
know me, and sometimes wondering why it did not know me 
sooner, or whether it would ever know me at all, — at least, 
till I were in my grave. . . . By and by the world found 
me out in my lonely chamber, and called me forth." 

His son Julian describes Hawthorne as the handsomest 
young man of his day in that part of the world. " Such," 
he says, " is the report of those who knew him ; and there is 
a miniature of him, taken some years later [later, that is, 
than his college days], which bears out the report. He was 
five feet, ten and a half inches in height, broad-shouldered, 
but of a light athletic build, not weighing more than one 
hundred and fifty pounds. His limbs were beautifully 
formed, and the moulding of his neck and throat was as fine 
as anything in antique sculpture. His hair, which had a 
long, curving wave in it, approached blackness in color ; his 



xii A SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF 

head was large and grandly develoi3ed ; his eyebrows were 
dark and heavy, with a superb arch and space beneath. 
His nose was straight, but the contour of his chin was 
Roman. He never wore a beard, and was without a mous- 
tache until his fifty-fifth year. His eyes were large, dark- 
blue, brilliant, and full of varied expression. Bayard Taylor 
used to say that they were the only eyes he had ever known 
flash fire. Charles Reade, in a letter written in 1876, de- 
clared that he had never before seen such eyes as Haw- 
thorne's, in a human head. When he went to London, per- 
sons whose recollections reached back through a generation 
or so used to compare his glance with that of Robert Burns. 
While he was yet in college, an old gypsy woman, meeting 
him suddenly in a woodland path, gazed at him and asked, 
' Are you a man or an angel ? ' His complexion was 
delicate and transparent, rather dark than light, with a 
ruddy tinge in the cheeks. The skin of his face was always 
very sensitive, and a cold raw wind caused him actual pain. 
His hands were large and muscular, the palm broad, with a 
full curve of the outer margin ; the fingers smooth, but 
neither square nor pointed ; the thumb long and powerful. 
His feet were slender and sinewy, and he had a long elastic 
gait, accompanied by a certain sidewise swinging of the 
shoulders. He was a tireless walker, and of great bodily 
activity ; up to the time he was forty years old, he could 
clear a height of five feet at a standing jump. His voice, 
which was low and deep in ordinary conversation, had 
astounding volume when he chose to give full vent to it ; 
with such a voice, and such eyes and presence, he might 
have quelled a crew of mutinous privateersmen at least as 
effectively as Bold Daniel, his grandfather : it was not a 
bellow, but had the searching and electrifying quality of the 
blast of a trumpet." 



NATHANIEL HAWTHOUNE. xiii 

III. 
HAWTHORNE AND SOPHIA PEABODY. 

There was a neighboring family to the Hawthornes in 
Salem, that of Dr. Nathaniel Peabody, whose children were 
playmates of the Hawthornes before Captain Hawthorne's 
death. After the Hawthornes returned from Lake Sebago, 
the Peabodys still lived in the same neighborhood, but the 
young people scarcely saw each other, so secluded were the 
Hawthornes. Indeed the girls in the Peabody family were 
reading Nathaniel Hawthorne's tales without knowing 
they were written by the handsome, silent young man whom 
they saw occasionally. There were three of these girls. The 
eldest, Elizabeth Palmer Peabody, lived to a great age un- 
married, but well known as having done more than any per- 
son to introduce the kindergarten in America ; the second, 
Mary, married Horace Mann, whose statue stands in front of 
the State House in Boston because he was the chief organ- 
izer of public schools in Massachusetts ; the third daughter, 
Sophia, was a delicate girl, very much of an invalid, who 
was the joy of the household for her lovely spirit, and early 
showed such a love of art that she was trained to draw and 
paint, so that when Hawthorne was trying his hand at 
writing, she was making sketches, and after the sisters had 
found out that their young neighbor was an author, Sophia 
made a drawing illustrating his story of The Gentle Boy, 
The acquaintance between the young people of the two 
families had just been renewed, and one day Sophia Peabody 
showed him the picture, saying, 

" I want to know if this looks like your Ibrahim ? " He 
sat down and looked at it, and then looked up and said, 
"He will never look otherwise to me." 

From this time the acquaintance rapidly passed into 
ardent love, and it was not long before the two young peo- 
ple, — Sophia was seven years the younger, — were en- 
gaged to be married. Apparently this engagement spurred 



XIV A SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF 

Hawthorne to greater activity. He did not abandon his 
writing, but he began to go about more among men, and 
seeking further means of support he obtained a post in the 
Boston custom-house, which was given him by the historian 
George Bancroft, who was then collector of the port. It 
was at this time that he wrote The Whole History of 
Grandfather's Chair, which was originally published in 
three sejjarate parts. He had a plan for having Sophia 
Peabody make illustrations for it, and pointed out the oppor- 
tunity there was for sketches in Master Cheever's School, 
the Acadians, the Earl of Loudoun's military council in 
Boston, and Liberty Tree, but nothing seems to have come 
of the plan. 

The long seclusion in which Hawthorne had brooded in 
Salem had made him, especially after Sophia Peabody had 
come into his life, eager to be amongst men and to get to 
work at something with his hands. " I want to have some- 
thing to do with this material world," he said to Sophia's 
sister, Elizabeth, and when, after two years in the Boston 
custom-house, he was turned out of office by the coming in 
of a new political administration, he looked about for fur- 
ther work of a kind that should bring him close to the soil 
and the people. Just at this time there was started in West 
Roxbury, Massachusetts, an experiment which greatly inter- 
ested Hawthorne and his friends. A number of men and 
women, chiefly persons of intellectual ability, were restless 
under what they thought was a very unsatisfactory condi- 
tion of society, and they were resolved to form a little com- 
munity of their own, to show the world how it was possible 
for people to live rationally, to support themselves by work 
with their hands, and yet have leisure for intellectual occu- 
pation. It was to be a true community where all should 
share each other's goods, whether those goods were property 
or mind. 

They called the place they established Brook Farm, and 
thither Hawthorne went after he was turned out of the 



NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. xv 

custom-house, and cast in his lot with the eager little com- 
munity. Apparently, he planned to try the experiment by 
himself, and if it worked well, he could then marry and 
take his wife there to live with him. Here is a letter which 
he wrote to his sister Louisa shortly after he joined Brook 
Farm. 

"Bkook Farm, West Roxbury, May .3, 1841, 
"As the weather precludes all possibility of ploughing, 
hoeing, sowing, and other such operations, I bethink me that 
you may have no objections to hear something of my where- 
about and whatabout. You are to know, then, that I took 
up my abode here on the 12th ultimo, in the midst of a 
snow-storm, which kept us idle for a day or two. At the 
first glimjDse of fair weather, Mr. Ripley summoned us into 
the«cow-yard, and introduced me to an instrument with four 
prongs, commonly entitled a dung-fork. With this tool I 
have already assisted to load twenty or thirty carts of ma- 
nure, and shall take part in loading nearly three hundred 
more. Besides, I have planted potatoes and peas, cut straw 
and hay for the cattle, and done various other mighty works. 
This very morning I milked three cows, and I milk two or 
three every night and morning. The weather has been so 
unfavorable that we have worked comparatively little in the 
fields ; but, nevertheless, I have gained strength wonder 
fully, — grown quite a giant, in fact, — and can do a day's 
work without the slightest inconvenience. In short, I am 
transformed into a complete farmer. 

" This is one of the most beautiful places I ever saw in 
my life, and as secluded as if it were a hundred miles from 
any city or village. There are woods in which we can 
ramble all day without meeting anybody or scarcely seeing 
a house. Our house stands apart from the main road, so 
that we are not troubled even with passengers looking at us. 
Once in a while we have a transcendental visitor, such as 
Mr- Alcott ; but ge^grally we pass whole days without see- 



XVI A SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF 

ing a single face, save those of the brethren. The whole 
fraternity eat together ; and such a delectable way of life 
has never been seen on earth since the days of the early 
Christians. We get up at half-past four, breakfast at half- 
past six, dine at half-past twelve, and go to bed at nine. 

" The thin frock which you made for me is considered a 
most sjjlendid article, and I should not wonder if it were to 
become the summer uniform of the Community. I have a 
thick frock, likewise ; but it is rather deficient in grace, 
though extremely warm and comfortable. I wear a tre- 
mendous pair of cowhide boots, with soles two inches thick, 
— of course, when I come to see you I shall wear my farm- 
er's dress. 

" We shall be very much occupied during most of this 
month, ploughing and planting ; so that I doubt whether 
you will see me for two or three weeks. You have the por- 
trait by this time, I suj^pose, so you can very well dispense 
with the original. When you write to me (which I beg you 
will do soon), direct your letter to West Roxbury, as there 
are two post-offices in the town. I would write more, but 
William Allen is going to the village, and must have this 
letter. So good-by. 

" Nath. Hawthorne, Ploughman." 

IV. 

LIFE AT THE OLD MANSE. 

Hawthorne remained but a few months at Brook Farm ; 
but he stored the experience in his mind, and some years 
later availed himself of it, when writing The Bllthedale 
Romance. On the 9th of July, 1842, he married Miss 
Peabody, and the young couple went to live in Concord, 
Massachusetts. They occupied for four years an old house 
near the river, which had been the home of the village 
minister for more than one generation, and was known as 
the Old Manse. Their eldest child was born there, and the 



NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. xvii 

life of the husband and wife was one of great happiness. 
They were wont to keep a joint diary, in which now one, 
now the other, held the pen. Hawthorne was thirty-eight 
years old, and his solitary life hitherto had confirmed a 
natural tendency to seclusion; his wife guarded well his 
solitude, and he in turn gave her a love which was infused 
with reverence. 

Yet the Hawthornes were not without the choicest com- 
pany ; for at this time Emerson was living in Concord. It 
was in the old Manse itself that he had written Nature, a 
long essay which had brought him into the notice of thought- 
ful men. " It was good," Hawthorne wrote, " to meet him 
in the wood paths, or sometimes in our avenue, with that 
pure intellectual gleam diffused about his presence, like the 
garment of a shining one ; and he so quiet, so simple, so 
without pretension, encountering each man alive, as if ex- 
pecting to receive more than he could impart." Younger 
men were Thoreau and EUery Channing, the latter a poet 
and dreamer, still living (1896) in Concord, and known, 
among other ways, by his curious published sketch of 
Thoreau. Others, like George S. Hillard, who wrote Six 
Months in Italy, came as visitors to Concord, attracted by 
the companionship of the men of letters who made it their 
home. 

Hawthorne occupied himself with writing, printing 
some things and burying more in his capacious note-books. 
The most enduring of his work is to be found in his 
Mosses from an Old Manse, a collection of twenty-six 
tales, together with a delightful introductory chapter, de- 
scriptive of the manse itself. The title of the book inti- 
mates how antique for the most part were the stories he had 
been writing ; how, like the moss, they gathered about the 
life of an old society. 



xviii A SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF 

V. 
OUT IN THE WORLD. 

Mosses from an Old Manse was published in 1846 ; in 
that same year he was appointed surveyor of the port of 
Salem, and held the office for three years. It was while 
living in Salem, among the old familiar scenes, that he 
wrote the novel which gave him fame. The Scarlet Letter ; 
yet so diffident was he, and so discouraged by the slow sale 
of the little books he had put forth, that the manuscript of 
the first draft of the novel lay neglected, until the loss of 
his office through a change of administration made some 
resource necessary, and the encouragement of his wife and 
Mr. James T. Fields, the publisher, led to the finishing of 
the work. v 

The publication at once brought Hawthorne into distinc- 
tion, and shortly after he took his family to Lenox, in the 
western part of Massachusetts, where he lived for more 
than a year, occupying a small red wooden house near the 
Stockbridge Bowl. The delights of country life, and the 
pleasure which he took in his little family of a son and 
daughter, reappear in the embroidery of the Wonder Book, 
and Tanglewood Tales, for though the small people to 
whom the stories are told in imagination are not actual 
reproductions of his own children, the childish life is a 
reflex of what he was now enjoying, and it was a pleasant 
fancy which led him to put the tales into the mouth of a 
young collegian as if he were himself then renewing his 
youth. 

In September, 1850, he began in Lenox The House of 
the Seven Gables : but he wrote to Mr. Fields on the first 
of October : " I sha'n't have the new story ready by Novem- 
ber, for I am never good for anything in the literary way 
till after the first autumnal frost, which has somewhat such 
an effect on my imagination that it does on the foliage here 
about me — multiplying and brightening its hues." The 



NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. xix 

book was finished in January, 1851. Many have puzzled 
themselves to find the actual house which stood for Haw- 
thorne's portrait, and to-day people in Salem point out an 
old many-gabled house as the original of the one in the 
story. The truth is Hawthorne constructed his imaginary 
house as a novelist builds his characters by taking a hint 
from what he has seen and letting his imagination play 
about it and create something no one ever set actual eyes on. 

Hawthorne's year at Lenox was the culmination in many 
respects, of his life. "In the afternoons, nowadays," he 
records shortly after establishing his home there, " this 
valley in which I dwell seems like a vast basin filled with 
golden sunshine as with wine," and his happiness is reflected 
in his joyous work for children as well as in what may be 
called the delicate glow which pervades the romance he 
wrote there in the person of Phoebe Pyncheon, whose face 
and figure form so graceful a contrast to the tragic circum- 
stances inwrought in the tale. Mr. Julian Hawthorne has 
a pleasant account of the happy life of the family at this 
time. 

" After finishing The House of the Seven Gables, Haw- 
thorne allowed himself a vacation of about four months ; 
and there is every reason to suppose that he enjoyed it. 
He had recovered his health, he had done his work, he was 
famous, and the region in which he dwelt was beautiful and 
inspiriting. At all events, he made those spring days mem- 
orable to his children. He made them boats to sail on the 
lake, and kites to fly in the air ; he took them fishing and 
flower-gathering, and tried (unsuccessfully for the present), 
to teach them swimming. Mr. Melville used to ride or 
drive up, in the evenings, with his great dog, and the chil- 
dren used to ride on the dog's back. In short, the place 
was made a paradise for the small people. In the previous 
autumn, and still more in the succeeding one, they all went 
nutting, and filled a certain disused oven in the house with 
such bags upon bags of nuts as not a hundred children could 



XX A SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF 

have devoured during the ensuing winter. The children's 
father displayed extraordinary activity and energy on these 
nutting expeditions ; standing on the ground at the foot of 
a tall walnut-tree, he would bid them turn their backs and 
cover their eyes with their hands ; then they would hear, for 
a few seconds, a sound of rustling and scrambling, and, 
immediately after, a shout, whereupon they would uncover 
their eyes and gaze upwards ; and lo ! there was their 
father — who but an instant before, as it seemed, had been 
beside them — swaying and soaring high aloft on the top- 
most branches, a delightful mystery and miracle. And 
then down would rattle showers of ripe nuts, which the 
children would diligently pick up, and stuff into their capa- 
cious bags. It was all a splendid holiday ; and they cannot 
remember when their father was not their playmate, or 
when they ever desired or imagined any other playmate 
than he." 

Hawthorne let an interval lapse after writing The House 
of the Seven Gables, and then took up the pleasant task of 
telling the Greek myths anew in A Wo7ider Book for Boys 
and Girls. His own little family was increased too by the 
addition of his daughter Rose. 

Perhaps it was due to the successive changes in his cir- 
cumstances, perhaps no less to an inborn restlessness, that 
Hawthorne after his marriage lived but a short time in any 
one place. At any rate, after a little more than a year in 
Lenox, he moved his family to West Newton, near Boston, 
and there he wrote The BUthedale Romance, within easy 
walking distance of Brook Farm, which was much in his 
mind as he wrote. The house at West Newton had been 
taken only until a more satisfactory and permanent home 
could be found, and in June, 1852, the household was trans- 
ferred to Concord again, where Hawthorne had bought the 
place called The Wayside, built originally by Mr. Alcott, 
the father of Louisa May Alcott who wrote Little Women. 
Here he wrote Tanglewood Tales, a companion volume to 
The Wonder Book. 



NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. xxi 

VL 
A FAMOUS AUTHOR. 

Hawthorne was now a well-known American author, not 
so much because he had written books which everybody had 
read, as because the best judges of good books in America 
and England were eager to read everything he might write, 
for they saw that a new and great author had arisen. In 
1853 his old college friend Franklin Pierce was President, 
and he appointed Hawthorne consul of the United States in 
Liverpool, England. Thither he went with his family, and 
remained in Europe until 1860, although he left the consul- 
ate in 1857. The seven years which he spent abroad were 
happy ones, and his Note-Books, passages from which have 
been published, give charming accounts of what he saw and 
did. Two books grew out of his life in Europe : Our Old 
Home, which tells of sights and people in England ; and 
The Marble Faun, which is a novel, with its scene laid in 
Italy. 

Rambling thus through Europe with his wife and chil- 
dren, Hawthorne came to be known by them very intimately, 
and his youngest daughter, Mrs. Rose Hawthorne Lathrop, 
has given many glimpses of the great writer as he appeared 
to a loving child. " He was a delightful companion," she 
says, " even when little was said, because liis eyes spoke 
with a sort of apprehension of your thought, so that you 
felt that your expression of face was a clear record for him, 
and that words would have been a sort of anti-climax. . . . 
I always felt a great awe of him, a tremendous sense of his 
power. His large eyes, liquid with blue and white light 
and deep with dark shadows, told me even when I was very 
young that he was in some respects different from other peo- 
ple. . . . He never became wholly merged in fun, however 
gay the games in which he joined with us children ; just as 
a man who has been in war never quite throws aside the 
dignity of the sorrow which he has seen. He might seem, 



xxii A SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF 

at a superficial glance, to be the merriest of us all, but on 
second thoughts he was not. Of course, there were times 
when it was very evident to me that my father was as com- 
fortable and happy as he cared to be. When he stood upon 
the hearth-rug, before the snapping, blushing English fire 
(always poked into a blaze toward evening, as he was about 
to enter the parlor), — when he stood there with his hands 
clasped behind him, swaying from side to side in a way 
peculiar to him, and which recalled the many sea-swayed 
ancestors of his who had kept their feet on rolling decks, 
then he was a picture of benevolent pleasure. He swayed 
from side to side and raised himself on his toes, and creaked 
his slippered heels jocosely, and smiled upon me, and lost 
himself in agreeable musings. . . . We were usually a silent 
couple when off for a walk together, or when we met by 
chance in the household. I suppose that we were seeing 
which could outdo the other at ' holding the tongue.' 

" On Sundays, at sundown, when the winter rain had 
very likely dulled everybody's sense of mere moderate 
humor, the blue law of quietness was lifted from the atmos- 
phere ; and between five and six o'clock we sjDread butterfly 
wings again, and had blind man's buff. We ran round the 
large centre-table, and made this gambol most tempestu- 
ously merry. If anything had been left upon the table before 
we began, it was removed with rapidity before we finished. 
There was a distinct understanding that our blind-folded 
father must not be permitted to touch any of us, or else 
we should be reduced forthwith to our original dust. The 
pulsing grasp of his great hands and heavy fingers, soft 
and springing in their manipulation of one's shoulders, as 
the touch of a wild thing, was amusingly harmless, consid- 
ering the howls with which his onslaught was evaded as 
long as our flying legs were loyal to us. My father's gentle 
laughter and happy-looking lips were a revelation during 
these bouts." 

After his return from Europe, Hawthorne took up his life 



NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. xxiii 

ao-ain at Concord, and besides writing the papers which lie 
collected in Our Old Home, he began a romance called 
The Dolliver Romance. He did not live to complete it, 
but died May 19, 1864, and was buried on a hill-side in the 
cemetery at Concord. The day on which he was buried 
was the one lovely day of a stormy week, and in a poem 
which Longfellow wrote after the funeral we may catch a 
glimpse of the beauty of the scene, and know a little of 
the thoughts of those who were present. 

How beautiful it was, that one bright day 

In the long- week of rain ! 
Though all its splendor could not chase away 

The omnipresent pain. 

The lovely town was white with apple-bloonis, 

And the great elms o'erhead 
Dark shadows wove on their aerial looms 

Shot through with golden thread. 

Many famous men and women followed him as he was 
borne to the grave, and a few of them knew him. Yet 
very few could say they knew him well. The people who 
now read his books may know almost as much of him as 
those who met him daily, for it was in his books that he 
made himself known. Most of his writings, it is true, are 
better read by older people than by children, for though he 
wrote some books expressly for the young, he was most 
deeply moved by thoughts about life which the young can- 
not understand. He sometimes made allegories, like Bun- 
yan's PllgriirCs Progress, one of them being the well-known 
Little Dajfydowndillij ; and he always cared for the strange 
things which happen, just as some people like to walk in the 
twilight and to listen to mysterious sounds. He was not 
afraid of the dark, and he thought much of how people felt 
when they had done wrong or had suffered some great 
trouble. 

Hawthorne left a son and two daughters, the elder of 



xxiv A SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF 

whom, Una Hawthorne, died in 1877. Mrs. Hawthorne 
had already died in 1871. The son, Julian Hawthorne, 
has written a life of his father and mother, which is pub- 
lished in two volumes, under the title Nathaniel Haivtliorne 
and his Wife. His son-in-law, George Parsons Lathrop, 
has also written A Study of Haivthoime, which gives the 
facts of his life in connection with his literary career ; and 
Mrs. Lathrop has published Some Memories of Hawthorne 
from which quotations have been given above. Dr. Oliver 
Wendell Holmes published in The Atlantic Monthly for 
July, 1864, an account of Hawthorne in his last days. It 
is interesting to compare the two pen-pictures of the great 
romancer which the poet Lowell has drawn, an early one in 
his Fable for Critics ; a late one in his poem Agassiz. If 
one would know how Hawthorne looked, he has several 
portraits to consult besides the one prefixed to this book, 
issued by the publisher of Hawthorne's works. 



AUTHOR'S PREFACE 



In writing this ponderous tome, the author's desire 
has been to describe the eminent characters and re- 
markable events of our annals in such a form and 
style that the young may make acquaintance with 
them of their own accord. For this purpose, while 
ostensibly relating the adventures of a chair, he has 
endeavored to keep a distinct and unbroken thread of 
authentic history. The chair is made to pass from one 
to another of those personages of whom he thought it 
most desirable for the young reader to have vivid and 
familiar ideas, and whose lives and actions would best 
enable him to give picturesque sketches of the times. 
On its sturdy oaken legs it trudges diligently from one 
scene to another, and seems always to thrust itself in 
the way, with most benign complacency, whenever an 
historical personage happens to be looking round for 
a seat. 

There is certainly no method by which the shadowy 
outlines of departed men and women can be made to 
assume the hues of life more effectually than by con- 
necting their images with the substantial and homely 
reality of a fireside chair. It causes us to feel at once 
that these characters of history had a private and fa- 
miliar existence, and were not wholly contained within 
that cold array of outward action which we are com- 
pelled to receive as the adequate representation of 



xxvi AUTHOR'S PREFACE. 

their lives. If this impression can be give«, much is 
accomplished. 

Setting aside Grandfather and his auditors, and ex- 
cej)ting the adventures of the chair, which form the 
machinery of the work, nothing in the ensuing pages 
can be termed fictitious. The author, it is true, has 
sometimes assumed the license of filling up the outline 
of history with details for which he has none but im- 
aginative authority, but which, he hopes, do not violate 
nor give a false coloring to the truth. He believes 
that, in this respect, his narrative will not be found to 
convey ideas and impressions of which the reader may 
hereafter find it necessary to purge his mind. 

The author's great doubt is, whether he has suc- 
ceeded in writing a book which will be readable by 
the class for whom he intends it. To make a lively 
and entertaining narrative for children, with such un- 
malleable material as is presented by the sombre, 
stern, and rigid characteristics of the Puritans and 
their descendants, is quite as difficult an attempt as 
to manufacture delicate playthings out of the granite 
rocks on which New England is founded. 



GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 



PART I. 

1620-1G92. 

CHAPTER I. 

GRANDFATHER AND THE CHILDREN AND THE CHAIR. 

Grandfather had been sitting in his old arm-chair 
all that pleasant afternoon, while the children were 
pursuing their various sjDorts far off or near at hand. 
Sometimes you would have said, " Grandfather is 
asleep ; " but still, even when his eyes were closed, his 
thoughts were with the young people, playing among 
the flowers and shrubbery of the garden. 

He heard the voice of Laurence, who had taken pos- 
session of a heap of decayed branches which the gar- 
dener had lopped from the fruit-trees, and was build- 
ing a little hut for his cousin Clara and himself. He 
heard Clara's gladsome voice, too, as she weeded and 
watered the flower-bed which had been given her for 
her own. He could have counted every footstep that 
Charley took, as he trundled his wheelbarrow along 
the gravel-walk. And though Grandfather was old 
and gray-haired, yet his heart leaped with joy when- 
ever little Alice came fluttering, like a butterfly, into 
the room. She had made each of the children her 
playmate in turn, and now made Grandfather her 



2 GRANDFATHERS CHAIR. 

playmate too, and thought him the merriest of them 
all. 

At last the children grew weary of their sports ; 
because a summer afternoon is like a long lifetime to 
the young. So they came into the room together, and 
clustered round Grandfather's great chair. Little 
Alice, who was hardly five years old, took the priv- 
ilege of the youngest, and climbed his knee. It was 
a pleasant thing to behold that fair and golden-haired 
child in the lap of the old man, and to think that, dif- 
ferent as they were, the hearts of both could be glad- 
dened with the same joys. 

" Grandfather," said little Alice, laying her head 
back upon his arm, " I am very tired now. You must 
tell me a story to make me go to sleep." 

"That is not what story-tellers like," answered 
Grandfather, smiling. " They are better satisfied 
when they can keep their auditors awake." 

" But here are Laurence, and Charley, and I," 
cried cousin Clara, who was twice as old as little 
Alice. " We will all three keep wide awake. And 
pray. Grandfather, tell us a story about this strange- 
looking old chair." 

Now, the chair in which Grandfather sat was made 
of oak, which had grown dark with age, but had been 
rubbed and polished till it shone as bright as mahog- 
any. It was very large and heavy, and had a back 
that rose high above Grandfather's white head. This 
back was curiously carved in open work, so as to rep- 
resent flowers, and foliage, and other devices, which 
the children had often gazed at, but could never un- 
derstand what they meant. On the very tip-top of the 
chair, over the head of Grandfather himself, was a 
likeness of a lion's head, which had such a savage grin 



GRANDFATHER AND THE CHILDREN. 3 

that you would almost expect to hear it growl and 
siiarl. 

The children had seen Grandfather sitting in this 
chair ever since they could remember anything. Per- 
haps the younger of them supposed that he and the 
chair had come into the world together, and that both 
had always been as old as they were now. At this 
time, however, it happened to be the fashion for la- 
dies to adorn their drawing-rooms with the oldest and 
oddest chairs that could be found. It seemed to cou- 
sin Clara that, if these ladies could have seen Grand- 
father's old chair, they would have thought it worth 
all the rest together. She wondered if it were not 
even older than Grandfather himself, and longed to 
know all about its history. 

" Do, Grandfather, talk to us about this chair," she 
repeated. 

" Well, child," said Grandfather, patting Clara's 
cheek, " I can tell you a great many stories of my 
chair. Perhaps your cousin Laurence would like to 
hear them too. They would teach him something 
about the history and distinguished people of his 
country which he has never read in any of his school- 
books." 

Cousin Laurence was a boy of twelve, a bright 
scholar, in whom an early thoughtfulness and sensi- 
bility began to show themselves. His young fancy 
kindled at the idea of knowing all the adventures of 
this venerable chair. He looked eagerly in Grand- 
father's face ; and even Charley, a bold, brisk, restless 
little fellow of nine, sat himself down on the carpet, 
and resolved to be quiet for at least ten minutes, should 
the story last so long. 



4 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

Meantime, little Alice was already asleep ; so Grand- 
father, being much pleased with such an attentive audi- 
ence, began to talk about matters that happened long 



CHAPTER II. 

THE PURITANS AND THE LADY ARBELLA. 

But before relating the adventures of the chair, 
Grandfather found it necessary to speak of circum- 
stances that caused the first settlement of New Eng- 
land. For it will soon be perceived that the story of 
this remarkable chair cannot be told without telling a 
great deal of the history of the country. 

So Grandfather talked about the Puritans,^ as those 
persons were called who thought it sinful to practise 
certain religious forms and ceremonies of the Church 
of England. These Puritans suffered so much perse- 
cution in England that, in 1607, many of them went 
over to Holland, and lived ten or twelve years at Am- 
sterdam and Leyden. But they feared that, if they 
continued there much longer, they should cease to be 
English, and should adopt all the manners, and ideas, 
and feelings of the Dutch. For this and other rea- 
sons, in the year 1620 they embarked on board the 
ship Mayflower, and crossed the ocean, to the shores 
of Cape Cod. There they made a settlement, and 

^ It is more precise to give the name of Pilgrims to those 
Englishmen who went to Holland and afterward to Plymouth. 
They were sometimes called Separatists because they separated 
themselves from the church of England, sometimes Brownists 
after the name of one of their eminent ministers. The Puritans 
formed a great political as well as religious party in England, 
and did not at first separate themselves from the church of Eng- 
land, though those who came to this country did so at once. 



6 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

called it Plymouth, which, though now a part of 
Massachusetts, was for a long time a colony by it- 
self. And thus was formed the earliest settlement 
of the Puritans in America. 

Meantime, those of the Puritans who remained in 
England continued to suffer grievous persecution on 
account of their religious opinions. They began to 
look around them for some spot where they might wor- 
ship God, not as the king and bishops thought fit, but 
according to the dictates of their own consciences. 
When their brethren had gone from Holland to 
America, they bethought themselves that they likewise 
might find refuge from persecution there. Several 
gentlemen among them purchased a tract of country 
on the coast of Massachusetts Bay, and obtained a 
charter from King Charles, which authorized them to 
make laws for the settlers. In the year 1628 they 
sent over a few people, with John Endicott at their 
head, to commence a plantation at Salem.^ Peter 
PaKrey, Roger Conant, and one or two more had 
built houses there in 1626, and may be considered as 
the first settlers of that ancient town. Many other 
Puritans prepared to follow Endicott. 

" And now we come to the chair, my dear children," 
said Grandfather. '' This chair is su23posed to have 
been made of an oak-tree which grew in the park of 
the English Earl of Lincoln between two and three 
centuries ago. In its younger days it used, probably, 
to stand in the hall of the earl's castle. Do not you 
see the coat of arms of the family of Lincoln carved 
in the open work of the back ? But when his daugh- 

^ The Puritans had a liking for Biblical names for their chil- 
dren, and they sometimes gave names out of the Bible to places. 
Salem means Peace. The Indian name was Naumkeag. 



THE LADY ARBELLA. T 

ter, the Lady Arbella, was married to a certain Mi\ 
Johnson, the earl gave her this valuable chair." 

" Who was Mr. Johnson ? " inquired Clara. 

" He was a gentleman of great wealth, who agreed 
with the Puritans in their religious opinions," an- 
swered Grandfather. " And as his belief was the 
same as theirs, he resolved that he would live and die 
with them. Accordingly, in the month of April, 1630, 
he left his pleasant abode and all his comforts in Eng- 
land, and embarked, with Lady Arbella, on board of 
a ship bound for America." 

As Grandfather was frequently impeded by the 
questions and observations of his young auditors, we 
deem it advisable to omit all such prattle as is not 
essential to the story. We have taken some pains to 
find out exactly what Grandfather said, and here 
offer to our readers, as nearly as possible in his own 
words, the story of the Lady Arbella. 

The ship in which Mr. Johnson and his lady em- 
barked, taking Grandfather's chair along with them, 
was called the Arbella, in honor of the lady herself. 
A fleet of ten or twelve vessels, with many hundred 
passengers, left England about the same time ; for a 
multitude of people, who were discontented with the 
king's government and oppressed by the bishops, were 
flocking over to the New World. One of the vessels 
in the fleet was that same Mayflower which had car- 
ried the Puritan Pilgrims to Plymouth. And now, 
my children, I would have you fancy j^ourselves in the 
cabin of the good ship Arbella ; because, if you could 
behold the passengers aboard that vessel, you would 
feel what a blessing and honor it was for New Eng- 
land to have such settlers. They were the best men 
and women of their day. 



8 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

Among the passengers was John Winthrop, who 
had sold the estate of his forefathers, and was going to 
prepare a new home for his wife and children in the 
wilderness. He had the king's charter in his keeping, 
and was appointed the first governor of Massachu- 
setts. Imagine him a person of grave and benevolent 
aspect, dressed in a black velvet suit, with a broad 
ruff around his neck, and a peaked beard upon his 
chin. 1 There was likewise a minister of the gospel 
whom the English bishops had forbidden to preach, 
but who knew that he should have liberty both to 
preach and pray in the forests of America. He wore 
a black cloak, called a Geneva cloak, and had a black 
velvet cap, fitting close to his head, as was the fashion 
of almost all the Puritan clergymen. In their com- 
pany came Sir Richard Saltonstall, who had been one 
of the five first projectors of the new colony. He 
soon returned to his native country. But his descend- 
ants still remain in New England ; and the good old 
family name is as much respected in our days as it 
was in those of Sir Richard. 

Not only these, but several other men of wealth and 
pious ministers were in the cabin of the Arbella. One 
had banished himself forever from the old hall where 
his ancestors had lived for hundreds of years. An- 
other had left his quiet parsonage, in a country town 
of England. Others had come from the Universities 
of Oxford or Cambridge, where they had gained great 
fame for their learning. And here they all were, toss- 
ing upon the uncertain and dangerous sea, and bound 
for a home that was more dangerous than even the 

1 There is a statue representing John Winthrop in Scollay 
Square in Boston. He holds the charter in his hand, and a 
Bible is under his arm. 



THE LADY ARBELLA. 9 

sea itself. In the cabin, likewise, sat the Lady Ar- 
bella in her chair, with a gentle and sweet expression 
on her face, but looking too pale and feeble to endure 
the hardships of the wilderness. 

Every morning and evening the Lady Arbella gave 
up her great chair to one of the ministers, who took 
his place in it and read passages from the Bible to his 
companions. And thus, with prayers, and pious con- 
versation, and frequent singing of hymns, which the 
breezes caught from their lips and scattered far over 
the desolate waves, they i3rosecuted their voyage, and 
sailed into the harbor of Salem in the month of »June. 

At that period there were but six or eight dwellings 
in the town ; and these were miserable hovels, with 
roofs of straw and wooden chimneys. The passengers 
in the fleet either built huts with bark and branches 
of trees, or erected tents of cloth till they could pro- 
vide themselves with better shelter. Many of them 
went to form a settlement at Charlestown. It was 
thought fit that the Lady Arbella should tarry in 
Salem for a time ; she was probably received as a 
guest into the family of John Endicott. He was the 
chief person in the plantation, and had the only com- 
fortable house which the new-comers had beheld since 
they left England. So now, children, you must imag- 
ine Grandfather's chair in the midst of a new scene. 

Suppose it a hot summer's day, and the lattice-win- 
dows of a chamber in Mr. Endicott's house thrown 
wide open. The Lady Arbella, looking paler than she 
did on shipboard, is sitting in her chair and thinking 
mournfully of far-off England. She rises and goes to 
the window. There, amid patches of garden ground 
and cornfield, she sees the few wretched hovels of the 
settlers, with the still ruder wigwams and cloth tents 



10 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

of the passengers who had arrived in the same fleet 
with herself. Far and near stretches the dismal forest 
of pine-trees, which throw their black shadows over 
the whole land, and likewise over the heart of this 
poor lady. 

'^ All the inhabitants of the little village are busy. 
One is clearing a spot on the verge of the forest for 
his homestead ; another is hewing the trunk of a fallen 
pine-tree, in order to build himself a dwelling ; a third 
is hoeing in his field of Indian corn. Here comes a 
huntsman out of the woods, dragging a bear which he 
has shot, and shouting to the neighbors to lend him a 
hand. There goes a man to the sea-shore, with a 
spade and a bucket, to dig a mess of clams, which 
were a princij)al article of food with the first settlers. 
Scattered here and there are two or three dusky fig- 
ures, clad in mantles of fur, with ornaments of bone 
hanging from their ears, and the feathers of wild birds 
in their coal-black hair. They have belts of shell- 
work slung across their shoulders, and are armed with 
bows and arrows, and flint-headed spears. These are 
an Indian sagamore ^ and his attendants, who have 
come to gaze at the labors of the white men. And 
now rises a cry that a pack of wolves have seized a 
young calf in the pasture ; and every man snatches up 
his gun or pike and runs in chase of the marauding 
beasts. 

Poor Lady Arbella watches all these sights, and 
feels that this New World is fit only for rough and 
hardy people. None should be here but those who 
can struggle with wild beasts and wild men, and can 
toil in the heat or cold, and can keep their hearts firm 
against all difficulties and dangers. But she is not 
^ Sagamore =^c\\\Gi. 



THE LADY ARBELLA. 11 

one of these. Her gentle and timid spirit sinks within 
her ; and, turning away from the window, she sits 
down in the great chair and wonders whereabouts in 
the wilderness her friends will dig her grave. 

Mr. Johnson had gone, with Governor Winthrop 
and most of the other passengers, to Boston, where he 
intended to build a house for Lady Arbella and him- 
self. Boston was then covered with wild woods, and 
had fewer inhabitants, even, than Salem. During 
her husband's absence, poor Lady Arbella felt her- 
self growing ill, and was hardly able to stir from the 
great chair. Whenever John Endicott noticed her 
despondency he doubtless addressed her with words of 
comfort. " Cheer up, my good lady ! " he would say. 
" In a little time you will love this rude life of the 
wilderness as I do." But Endicott's heart was as bold 
and resolute as iron, and he could not understand why 
a woman's heart should not be of iron too. 

Still, however, he spoke kindly to the lady, and 
then hastened forth to till his cornfield and set out 
fruit-trees, or to bargain with the Indians for furs, or 
perchance to oversee the building of a fort. Also, 
being a magistrate, he had often to punish some idler 
or evil doer, by ordering him to be set in the stocks ^ 
or scourged at the whij^ping-post. Often, too, as was 
the custom of the times, he and Mr. Higginson, the 
minister of Salem, held long religious talks together. 
Thus John Endicott was a man of multifarious busi- 
ness, and had no time to look back regretfully to his 
native land. He felt himself fit for the New World 
and for the work that he had to do, and set himself 
resolutely to accomplish it. 

^ Stocks. All old-fashioned form of punishment. Tlie prisoner 
was securely fastened in a wooden structure having holes through 
which his arms and legs were thrust and held tight. 



12 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

What a contrast, my dear children, between this 
bold, rough, active man, and the gentle Lady Arbella, 
who was fading away, like a pale English flower, in 
the shadow of the forest ! And now the great chair 
was often empty, because Lady Arbella grew too weak 
to arise from bed. 

Meantime, her husband had pitched upon a spot for 
their new home. He returned from Boston to Salem, 
travelling through the woods on foot, and leaning on 
his pilgrim's staff. His heart yearned within him ; 
for he was eager to tell his wife of the new home 
which he had chosen. But when he beheld her pale 
and hollow cheek, and found how her strength was 
wasted, he must have known that her apjiointed home 
was in a better land. Happy for him then — happy 
both for him and her — if they remembered that there 
was a path to heaven, as well from this heathen wil- 
derness as from the Christian land whence they had 
come. And so, in one short month from her arrival, 
the gentle Lady Arbella faded away and died. They 
dug a grave for her in the new soil, where the roots 
of the pine-trees impeded their spades ; and when her 
bones had rested there nearly two hundred years, and 
a city had sprung up around them, a church of stone 
was built upon the spot.^ 

Charley, almost at the commencement of the fore- 
going narrative, had galloped away, with a ^Drodigious 
clatter, upon Grandfather's stick, and was not yet re- 
turned. So large a boy should have been ashamed to 
ride upon a stick. But Laurence and Clara had lis- 
tened attentively, and were affected by this true story 
of the gentle lady who had come so far to die so soon. 
^ St. Peter's church in Salem. 



THE LADY A K BELLA. 13 

Grandfather had supposed that little Alice was asleep ; 
but towards the close of the story, happening to look 
down upon her, he saw that her blue eyes were wide 
open, and fixed earnestly upon his face. The tears 
had gathered in them, like dew upon a delicate flower ; 
but when Grandfather ceased to speak, the sunshine of 
her smile broke forth again. 

'' Oh, the lady must have been so glad to get to 
heaven ! " exclaimed little Alice. 

" Grandfather, what became of Mr. Johnson ? " 
asked Clara. 

" His heart appears to have been quite broken," an- 
swered Grandfather ; " for he died at Boston within a 
month after the death of his wife. He was buried in 
the very same tract of ground wdiere he had intended 
to build a dwelling for Lady Arbella and himself. 
Where their house would have stood, there was his 
grave." 

" I never heard anything so melancholy," said Clara. 

" The people loved and respected Mr. Johnson so 
much," continued Grandfather, " that it w^as the last 
request of many of them, when they died, that they 
might be buried aS near as possible to this good man's 
grave. And so the field became the first burial ground 
in Boston. When you pass through Tremont Street, 
along by King's Chapel, you see a burial-ground, con- 
taining many old grave-stones and monuments. That 
was Mr. Johnson's field." 

" How sad is the thought," observed Clara, *' that 
one of the first things which the settlers had to do, 
when they came to the New World, was to set apart a 
burial-ground! " 

" Perhaps," said Laurence, " if they had found no 



14 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

need of burial-grounds here, they would have been 
glad, after a few years, to go back to England." 

Grandfather looked at Laurence, to discover whether 
he knew how profound and true a thing he had said. 




..i.. , 



king's chapel burying ground, boston 

Here are buried Governor Winthrop and other distinguished men of the early time. 
The first burial was in 1630. 



CHAPTER III. 

A RAINY DAY. 

Not long after Grandfather had told the story of 
his great chair, there chanced to be a rainy day. Our 
friend Charley, after disturbing the household with 
beat of drum and riotous shouts, races up and down 
the staircase, overturning of chairs, and much other 
uproar, began to feel the quiet and confinement within 
doors intolerable. But as the rain came down in a 
flood, the little fellow was hopelessly a prisoner, and 
now stood with sullen aspect at a window, wondering 
whether the sun itself were not extinguished by so 
much moisture in the sky. 

Charley had already exhausted the less eager activity 
of the other children ; and they had betaken them- 
selves to occupations that did not admit of his com- 
panionship. Laurence sat in a recess near the book- 
case, reading, not for the first time, the Midsummer 
Night's Dream. Clara was making a rosary of beads 
for a little figure of a Sister of Charity, who was to 
attend the Bunker Hill fair and lend her aid in erect- 
ing the Monument.! Little Alice sat on Grandfather's 

^ The building of Bunker Hill monument was begun when 
the corner stone was laid in 1825. Lafayette, the French soldier 
who had fought in our war for independence, was revisiting 
America and was present on the occasion. The monument was 
not completed until 1842, and all sorts of expedients like fairs 
and entertainments were resorted to for the raising of funds. 



16 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

footstool, with a picture-book in her hand ; and, for 
every picture, the child was telling Grandfather a 
story. She did not read from the book (for little 
Alice had not much skill in reading), but told the 
story out of her own heart and mind. 

Charley was too big a boy, of course, to care any- 
thing about little Alice's stories, although Grandfather 
appeared to listen with a good deal of interest. Often, 
in a young child's ideas and fancies, there is some- 
thing which it requires the thought of a lifetime to 
comprehend. But Charley was of opinion that, if a 
story must be told, it had better be told by Grandfather 
than little Alice. 

" Grandfather, I want to hear more about your 
chair," said he. 

Now, Grandfather remembered that Charley had 
galloped away upon a stick in the midst of the narra- 
tive of poor Lady Arbella, and I know not whether 
he would have thought it worth while to tell another 
story merely to gratify such an inattentive auditor as 
Charley. But Laurence laid down his book and sec- 
onded the request. Clara drew her chair nearer to 
Grandfather ; and little Alice immediately closed her 
picture-book and looked up into his face. Grand- 
father had not the heart to disappoint them. 

He mentioned several persons who had a share in 
the settlement of our country, and who would be well 
worthy of remembrance, if we could find room to tell 
about them all. Among the rest. Grandfather spoke 
of the famous Hugh Peters, a minister of the gospel, 
who did much good to the inhabitants of Salem. Mr. 
Peters afterwards went back to England, and was 
chaplain to Oliver Cromwell ; but Grandfather did 
not tell the children what became of this upright and 



A RAINY DAY. 17 

zealous man at last.^ In fact, his auditors were grow- 
ing impatient to liear more about the history of the 
chair. 

" After the death of Mr. Johnson," said he, " Grand- 
father's chair came into the possession of Roger Wil- 
liams. He was a clergyman, who arrived at Salem, 
and settled there in 1631. Doubtless the good man 
has spent many a studious hour in this old chair, either 
penning a sermon or reading some abstruse book of 
theology, till midnight came upon him unawares. At 
that period, as there were few lamps or candles to be 
had, people used to read or work by the light of pitch- 
pine torches. These supplied the place of the ' mid- 
night oil ' to the learned men of New England." 

Grandfather went on to talk about Roger Williams, 
and told the children several particulars, which we 
have not room to repeat. 

^ Perhaps Grandfather wished to spare Alice the pain of 
knowing that Hugh Peters was said to have been on the scaffold 
when King Charles I. was beheaded, and so, when King Charles 
II. came to the throne, Hugh Peters lost his head. 



CHAPTER IV. 

TROUBLOUS TIMES. 

" Roger Williams," said Grandfather, " did not 
keep possession of the chair a great while. His opin-^ 
ions of civil and religious matters differed, in many- 
respects, from those of the rulers and clergymen of 
Massachusetts. Now, the wise men of those days be- 
lieved that the country could not be safe unless all the 
inhabitants thought and felt alike." 

" Does anybody believe so in our days, Grand- 
father? " asked Lawrence. 

'• Possibly there are some who believe it," said 
Grandfather ; " but they have not so much power to 
act upon their belief as the magistrates and ministers 
had in the days of Roger Williams. They had the 
power to deprive this good man of his home, and to 
send him out from the midst of them in search of a 
new place of rest. He was banished in 1634, and 
went first to Plymouth colony ; but as the people there 
held the same opinions as those of Massachusetts, he 
was not suffered to remain among them. However, 
the wilderness was wide enough ; so Roger Williams 
took his staff and travelled into the forest and made 
treaties with the Indians, and began a plantation which 
he called Providence." 

" I have been to Providence on the railroad," said 
Charley. " It is but a two-hours' ride." 

" Yes, Charley," replied Grandfather ; " but when 



TROUBLOUS TIMES. 19 

Roger Williams travelled tbitlier, over hills and val- 
leys, and through the tangled woods, and across 
swamps and streams, it was a journey of several days. 
Well, his little plantation has now grown to be a pop- 
ulous city ; and the inhabitants have a great venera- 
tion for Roger Williams. His name is familiar in the 
mouths of all, because they see it on their bank-bills. 
How it would have perplexed this good clergyman if 
he had been told that he should give his name to the 
Roger Williams Bank ! " 

" When he was driven from Massachusetts," said 
Lawrence, " and began his journey into the woods, he 
must have felt as if he were burying himself forever 
from the sight and knowledge of men. Yet the whole 
country has now heard of him, and will remember him 
forever." 

" Yes," answered Grandfather ; " it often hapiDcns 
that the outcasts of one generation are those who are 
reverenced as the wisest and best of men by the next. 
The securest fame is that which comes after a man's 
death. But let us return to our story. When Roger 
Williams was banished, he appears to have given the 
chair to Mrs. Anne Hutchinson. At all events, it 
was in her possession in 1637. She was a very sharp- 
witted and well-instructed lady, and was so conscious 
of her own wisdom and abilities that she thought it a 
pity that the world should not have the benefit of 
them. She therefore used to hold lectures in Boston 
once or twice a week, at which most of the women at- 
tended. Mrs. Hutchinson presided at these meetings, 
sitting with great state and dignity in Grandfather's 
chair." 

" Grandfather, was it positively this very chair ? " 
demanded Clara, laying her hand upon its carved 
elbow. 



20 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

" Why not, my dear .Clara ? " said Grandfather. 
" Well, Mrs. Hutchinson's lectures soon caused a 
great disturbance ; for the ministers of Boston did not 
think it safe and proper that a woman should publicly 
instruct the people in religious doctrines. Moreover, 
she made the matter worse by declaring that the Rev. 
Mr. Cotton was the only sincerely pious and holy cler- 
gyman in New England. Now, the clergy of those 
days had quite as much share in the government of 
the country, though indirectly, as the magistrates them- 
selves ; so you may imagine what a host of powerful 
enemies were raised up against Mrs. Hutchinson. A 
synod was convened ; that is to say, an assemblage of 
all the ministers in Massachusetts. They declared 
that there were eighty-two erroneous opinions on re- 
ligious subjects diffused among the people, and that 
Mrs. Hutchinson's opinions were of the number." 

" If they had eighty-two wrong opinions," observed 
Charley, " I don't see how they could have any right 
ones." 

" Mrs. Hutchinson had many zealous friends and 
converts," continued Grandfather. " She was favored 
b}^ young Henry Vane, who had come over from Eng- 
land a year or two before, and had since been chosen 
governor of the colony, at the age of twenty-four. But 
Winthrop and most of the other leading men, as well 
as the ministers, felt an abhorrence of her doctrines. 
Thus two opposite parties were formed ; and so fierce 
were the dissensions that it was feared the consequence 
would be civil war and bloodshed. But Winthrop 
and the ministers being the most powerful, they dis- 
armed and imprisoned Mrs. Hutchinson's adherents. 
She, like Roger Williams, was banished." 

" Dear Grandfather, did they drive the poor woman 



TROUBLOUS TIMES. 21 

into the woods? " exclaimed little Alice, who contrived 
to feel a human interest even in these discords of po- 
lemic divinity. 

" They did, my darling," replied Grandfather ; " and 
the end of her life was so sad you must not hear it. 
At her departure, it appears, from the best authori- 
ties, that she gave the great chair to her friend Henry 
Vane. He was a young man of wonderful talents and 
great learning, who had imbibed the religious opinions 
of the Puritans, and left England with the intention 
of spending his life in Massachusetts. The people 
chose him governor ; but the controversy about Mrs. 
Hutchinson, and other troubles, caused him to leave 
the country in 1637. You may read the subsequent 
events of his life in the History of England." 

*' Yes, Grandfather," cried Laurence ; " and we may 
read them better in Mr. Upham's biography of Yane.^ 
And what a beautiful death he died, long afterwards ! 
beautiful, though it was on a scaffold." 

" Many of the most beautiful deaths have been 
there," said Grandfather. " The enemies of a great 
and good man can in no other way make him so glo- 
rious as by giving him the crown of martyrdom." 

In order that the children might fully understand 
the all-important history of the chair. Grandfather now 
thought fit to speak of the progress that was made in 
settling several colonies. The settlement of Plymouth, 

^ Since Mr. Upham's biography was written, a fuller and more 
minute life has appeared, written by J. K. Hosnier, entitled 
Young Sir Henry Vane, Governor of Massachusetts Bay, and 
Leader of the Long Parliament. What the great Puritan poet, 
John Milton, thought of Vane may be read in his famous son- 
net, beginning, " Vane, young in years, but in sage counsel old." 
The sonnet will be found in Riverside Literature Series, No. 72. 
One of Whittier's poems, Johii Underhill, is of a friend of Vane. 



22 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

in 1620, has already been mentioned. In 1635 Mr. 
Hooker and Mr. Stone, two ministers, went on foot 
from Massachusetts to Connecticut, through the path- 
less woods, taking their whole congregation along 
with them. They founded the town of Hartford. In 
1638 Mr. Davenj^ort, a very celebrated minister, went, 
with other people, and began a plantation at New 
Haven. In the same year, some persons who had 
been persecuted in Massachusetts went to the Isle of 
Rhodes, since called Rhode Island, and settled there. 
About this time, also, many settlers had gone to 
Maine, and were living without any regular govern- 
ment. There were likewise settlers near Piscataqua 
River, in the region which is now called New Hamp- 
shire.^ 

Thus, at various points along the coast of New Eng- 
land, there were communities of Englishmen. Though 
these communities were independent of one another, 
yet they had a common dependence upon England ; 
and, at so vast a distance from their native home, the 
inhabitants must all have felt like brethren. They 
were fitted to become one united people at a future 
period. Perhaps their feelings of brotherhood were 
the stronger because different nations had formed set- 
tlements to the north and to the south. In Canada 
and Nova Scotia were colonies of French. On the 
banks of the Hudson River was a colony of Dutch, 
who had taken possession of that region many years 
before, and called it New Netherlands. 

^ Portsmouth is the chief town of the region ; and readers who 
know Mr. Aldrich's Story of a Bad Boy have some acquaint- 
ance with the place under the slight veil of Rivermouth. Mr. 
Aldrich has written a pleasant book of historic sketches of 
Portsmouth, called A7i Old Town by the Sea. 



TROUBLOUS TIMES. 23 

Grandfather, for aught I know, might have gone on 
to speak of Maryland and Virginia ; for the good old 
gentleman really seemed to suppose that the whole sur- 
face of the United States was not too broad a founda- 
tion to place the four legs of his chair upon. But, 
happening to glance at Charley, he perceived that this 
naughty boy was growing impatient and meditating 
another ride upon a stick. So here, for the present, 
Grandfather suspended the history of his chair. 



CHAPTER V. 

THE GOVERNMENT OF NEW ENGLAND. 

The children had now learned to look upon the 
chair with an interest which was almost the same as 
if it were a conscious being, and could remember the 
many famous people whom it had held within its arms. 

Even Charley, lawless as he was, seemed to feel that 
this venerable chair must not be clambered upon nor 
overturned, although he had no scrujDle in taking such 
liberties with every other chair in the house. Clara 
treated it with still greater reverence, often taking oc- 
casion to smooth its cushion, and to brush the dust 
from the carved flowers and grotesque figures of its 
oaken back and arms. Laurence would sometimes sit 
a whole hour, especially at twilight, gazing at the chair, 
and, by the spell of his imaginations, summoning up 
its ancient occupants to api^ear in it again. 

Little Alice evidently employed herself in a similar 
way ; for once when Grandfather had gone abroad, the 
child was heard talking with the gentle Lady Arbella, 
as if she were still sitting in the chair. So sweet a 
child as little Alice may fitly talk with angels, such as 
the Lady Arbella had long since become. 

Grandfather was soon importuned for more stories 
about the chair. He had no difficulty in relating them ; 
for it really seemed as if every person noted in our 
early history had, on some occasion or other, found 
repose within its comfortable arms. If Grandfather 



THE GOVERNMENT OF NEW ENGLAND. 25 

took pride in anything, it was in being the possessor 
of such an honorable and historic elbow-chair. 

" I know not precisely who next got possession of 
the chair after Governor Vane went back to England," 
said Grandfather. " But there is reason to believe 
that President Dunster sat in it, when he held the first 
Commencement at Harvard College. You have often 
heard, children, how careful our forefathers were to 
give their young people a good education. They had 
scarcely cut down trees enough to make room for their 
own dwellings before they began to think of establish- 
ing a college. Their principal object was, to rear up 
pious and learned ministers ; and hence old writers 
call Harvard College a school of the prophets." 

"Is the college a school of the prophets now?" 
asked Charley. 

" It is a long while since I took my degree, Charley. 
You must ask some of the recent graduates," answered 
Grandfather. " As I was telling you. President Dun- 
ster sat in Grandfather's chair in 1642, when he con- 
ferred the degree of bachelor of arts on nine young 
men.i They were the first in America who had re- 
ceived that honor. And now, my dear auditors, I must 
confess that there are contradictory statements and 
some uncertainty about the adventures of the chair for 
a period of almost ten years. Some say that it was 
occupied by your own ancestor, William Hawthorne, 
first speaker of the House of Representatives. I have 
nearly satisfied myself, however, that, during most of 
this questionable period, it was literally the chair of 

^ There really is a quaint old chair used by the President of 
Harvard University at Commencement, and if Hawthorne was 
not thinking of it, Dr. Holmes was, when he wrote his amusing 
poem Parson Turell 's Legacy. 



26 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

state. It gives me much pleasure to imagine that sev- 
eral successive governors of Massachusetts sat in it at 
the council board." 

" But, Grandfather," interposed Charley, who was 
a matter-of-fact little person, " what reason have you 
to imagine so ? " 

"Pray do imagine it, Grandfather," said Laurence. 

" With Charley's permission, I will," replied Grand- 
father, smiling. " Let us consider it settled, therefore, 
that Winthrop, Bellingham, Dudley, and Endicott, 
each of them, when chosen governor, took his seat in 
our great chair on election day. In this chair, like- 
wise, did those excellent governors preside while hold- 
ing consultations with the chief councillors of the 
province, who were styled assistants. The governor 
sat in this chair, too, whenever messages were brought 
to him from the chamber of representatives." 

And here Grandfather took occasion to talk rather 
tediously about the nature and forms of government 
that established themselves, almost spontaneously, in 
Massachusetts and the other New England colonies. 
Democracies were the natural growth of the New 
World. As to Massachusetts, it was at first intended 
that the colony should be governed by a council in 
London. But in a little while the people had the 
whole power in their own hands, and chose annually 
the governor, the councillors, and the representatives. 
The people of Old England had never enjoyed any- 
thing like the liberties and privileges which the set- 
tlers of New England now possessed. And they did 
not adopt these modes of government after long study, 
but in simplicity, as if there were no other way for 
people to be ruled. 

" But, Laurence," continued Grandfather, " when 




^.5^^?fey^3^^^^^>^ ^tmi6ru/ae//i^ cMm Q7M/a^nd. 



From (he oldest known print of Harvard College, engraved in 1726, and representing 
the college as it appeared when ninety years old. The building on the right, 
Massachusetts Hall, is still in use. 



THE GOVERNMENT OF NEW ENGLAND. 27 

you want instruction on these points, you must seek it 
in Mr. Bancroft's History. I am merely telling the 
history of a chair. To proceed. The period during 
which the governors sat in our chair was not very full 
of striking incidents. The province was now estab- 
lished on a secure foundation ; but it did not increase 
so rapidly as at first, because the Puritans were no 
longer driven from England by persecution. How- 
ever, there was still a quiet and natural growth. The 
Legislature incorporated towns, and made new pur- 
chases of lands from the Indians. A very memorable 
event took place in 1643. The colonies of Massachu- 
setts, Plymouth, Connecticut, and New Haven formed 
a union, for the purpose of assisting each other in dif- 
ficulties, for mutual defence against their enemies. 
They called themselves the United Colonies of New 
England." 

" Were they under a government like that of the 
United States ? " inquired Laurence. 

" No," replied Grandfather ; " the different colonies 
did not compose one nation together ; it was merely 
a confederacy among the governments. It somewhat 
resembled the league of the Amphictyons, which you 
remember in Grecian history. But to return to our 
chair. In 1644 it was highly honored ; for Governor 
Endicott sat in it when he gave audience to an ambas- 
sador from the French governor of Acadia, or Nova 
Scotia. A treaty of peace between Massachusetts and 
the French colony was then signed." 

" Did England allow Massachusetts to make war 
and peace with foreign countries? " asked Laurence. 

" Massachusetts and the whole of New England was 
then almost independent of the mother country," said 
Grandfather. " There was now a civil war in Eng- 



28 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

land ; and tlie king, as you may well suppose, had his 
hands full at home, and could pay but little attention 
to these remote colonies. When the Parliament got 
the power into their hands, they likewise had enough 
to do in keeping down the Cavaliers. Thus New Eng- 
land, like a young and hardy lad whose father and 
mother neglect it, was left to take care of itself. In 
1649 King Charles was beheaded. Oliver • Cromwell 
then became Protector of England ; and as he was a 
Puritan himself, and had risen by the valor of the 
English Puritans, he showed himself a loving and in- 
dulgent father to the Puritan colonies in America." 

Grandfather might have continued to talk in this 
dull manner nobody knows how long ; but susj^ecting 
that Charley would find the subject rather dry, he 
looked sidewise at that vivacious little fellow, and saw 
him give an involuntary yawn. Whereupon Grand- 
father proceeded with the history of the chair, and re- 
lated a very entertaining incident, which will be found 
in the next chapter 



CHAPTER YI. 

THE PINE-TREE SHILLINGS. 

" According to the most authentic records, my clear 
children," said Grandfather, " the chair, about this 
time, had the misfortime to break its leg. It was 
probably on account of this accident that it ceased to 
be the seat of the governors of Massachusetts ; for, 
assuredly, it would have been ominous of evil to the 
commonwealth if the chair of state had tottered upon 
three legs. Being therefore sold at auction, — alas ! 
what a vicissitude for a chair that had figured in such 
high company ! — our venerable friend was knocked 
down to a certain Captain John Hull. This old gen- 
tleman, on carefully examining the maimed chair, dis- 
covered that its broken leg might be clamped with 
iron and made as serviceable as ever." 

" Here is the very leg that was broken ! " exclaimed 
Charley, throwing himself down on the floor to look 
at it. " And here are the iron clamps. How well it 
was mended ! " 

When they had all sufficiently examined the broken 
leg. Grandfather told them a story about Captain 
John Hull and the Pine-tree Shillings. 

The Captain John Hull aforesaid was the mint-mas- 
ter of Massachusetts, and coined all the money that 
was made there. This was a new line of business ; 
for, in the earlier days of the colony, the current coin- 
age consisted of gold and silver money of England, 



30 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

Portugal, and Spain. These coins being scarce, the 
people were often forced to barter their commodities 
instead of selling them. 

For instance, if a man wanted to buy a coat, he per- 
haps exchanged a bear-skin for it. If he wished for 
a barrel of molasses, he might purchase it with a pile 
of pine boards. Musket-bullets were used instead of 
farthings. The Indians had a sort of money, called 
wampum, which was made of clam-shells ; and this 
strange sort of specie was likewise taken in payment 
of debts by the English settlers. Bank-bills had never 
been heard of. There was not money enough of any 
kind, in many parts of the country, to pay the salaries 
of the ministers ; so that they sometimes had to take 
quintals of fish, bushels of corn, or cords of wood, in- 
stead of silver or gold. 

As the people grew more numerous, and their trade 
one with another increased, the want of current 
money was still more sensibly felt. To supply the de- 
mand, the General Court passed a law for establishing 
a coinage of shillings, sixpences, and threepences. Cap- 
tain John Hull was appointed to manufacture this 
money, and was to have about one shilling out of every 
twenty to pay him for the trouble of making them. 

Hereupon all the old silver in the colony was handed 
over to Captain John Hull. The battered silver cans 
and tankards, I suppose, and silver buckles, and bro- 
ken spoons, and silver buttons of worn-out coats, and 
silver hilts of swords that had figured at court, — all 
such curious old articles were doubtless thrown into 
the melting-pot together. But by far the greater part 
of the silver consisted of bullion from the mines of 
South America, which the English buccaneers — who 
were little better than pirates — had taken from the 
Spaniards, and brought to Massachusetts. 



THE PINE-TREE SHILLINGS. 31 

All this old and new silver being melted down and 
coined, the result was an immense amount of splendid 
shillings, sixpences, and threepences. Each had the 
date, 1652, on the one side, and the figure of a pine- 
tree on the other. Hence they were called pine-tree 
shillings. And for every twenty shillings that he 
coined, you will remember. Captain John Hidl was 
entitled to put one shilling into his own pocket. 

The magistrates soon began to suspect that the mint- 
master would have the best of the bargain. They of- 
fered him a large sum of money if he would but give 
up that twentieth shilling which he was continually 
dropping into his own pocket. But Captain Hull de- 
clared himself perfectly satisfied with the shilling. 
And well he might be ; for so diligently did he labor, 
that, in a few years, his pockets, his money-bags, and 
his strong box were overflowing with pine-tree shil- 
lings. This was probably the case when he came into 
possession of Grandfather's chair ; and, as he had 
worked so hard at the mint, it was certainly proper 
that he should have a comfortable chair to rest him- 
self in. 

When the mint-master had grown very rich, a young 
man, Samuel Sewall by name, came a-courting to his 
only daughter. His daughter — whose name I do not 
know, but we will call her Betsey — was a fine, hearty 
damsel, by no means so slender as some young ladies 
of our own days. On the contrary, having always fed 
heartily on pumpkin-pies, doughnuts, Indian puddings, 
and other Puritan dainties, she was as round and 
plump as a pudding herself. With this round, rosy 
Miss Betsey did Samuel Sewall fall in love. As he 
was a young man of good character, industrious in his 
business, and a member of the church, the mint-master 
very readily gave his consent. 



32 GRANDFATHERS CHAIR. 

" Yes, you may take her," said he, in his rough way, 
" and you'll find her a heavy burden enough ! " 

On the wedding day, we may suppose that honest 
John Hull dressed himself in a plum-colored coat, all 
the buttons of which were made of pine-tree shillings. 
The buttons of his waistcoat were sixpences ; and the 
knees of his small-clothes were buttoned with silver 
threepences. Thus attired, he sat with great dignity 
in Grandfather's chair ; and, being a jjortly old gen- 
tleman, he completely filled it from elbow to elbow. 
On the opposite side of the room, between her bride- 
maids, sat Miss Betsey. She was blushing with all 
her might, and looked like a full-blown peony, or a 
great red apple. 

There, too, was the bridegroom, dressed in a fine 
purple coat and gold-lace waistcoat, with as much other 
finery as the Puritan laws and customs would allow 
him to put on. His hair was cropped close to his 
head, because Governor Endicott had forbidden any 
man to wear it below the ears. But he was a very 
personable young man ; and so thought the bridemaids 
and Miss Betsey herself. 

The mint-master also was pleased with his new son- 
in-law ; especially as he had courted Miss Betsey out 
of pure love, and had said nothing at all about her 
portion. So, when the marriage ceremony was over, 
Captain Hull whispered a word to two of his men-ser- 
vants, who immediately went out, and soon returned, 
lugging in a large pair of scales. They were such a 
pair as wholesale merchants use for weighing bulky 
commodities ; and quite a bulky commodity was now 
to be weighed in them. 

" Daughter Betsey," said the mint-master, " get into 
one side of these scales." 



THE PINE-TREE SHILLINGS. 33 

Miss Betsey — or Mrs. Sewall, as we must now call 
her — did as she was bid, like a dutiful child, without 
any question of the why and wherefore. But what her 
father could mean, unless to make her husband pay for 
her by the pound (in which case she would have been 
a dear bargain), she had not the least idea. 

" And now," said honest John Hull to the servants, 
"bring that box hither." 

The box to which the mint-master pointed was a 
huge, square, iron-bound, oaken chest ; it was big 
enough, my children, for all four of you to play at 
hide-and-seek in. The servants tugged with might 
and main, but could not lift this enormous receptacle, 
and were finally obliged to drag it across the floor. 
Captain Hull then took a key from his girdle, un- 
locked the chest, and lifted its ponderous lid. Be- 
hold ! it was full to the brim of bright pine-tree shil- 
lings, fresh from the mint ; and Samuel Sewall began 
to think that his father-in-law had got possession of 
all the money in the Massachusetts treasury. But it 
was only the mint-master's honest share of the coin- 
age. 

Then the servants, at Captain Hull's command, 
heaped double handfuls of shillings into one side of 
the scales, while Betsey remained in the other. Jingle, 
jingle, went the shillings, as handful after handful was 
thrown in, till, plump and ponderous as she was, they 
fairly weighed the young lady from the floor. 

" There, son Sewall ! " cried the honest mint-master, 
resuming his seat in Grandfather's chair, " take these 
shillings for my daughter's portion. Use her kindly, 
and thank Heaven for her. It is not every wife that 's 
worth her weight in silver ! " 

The children laughed heartily at this legend, and 



34 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

would hardly be convinced but that Grandfather had 
made it out of his own head. He assured them faith- 
fully, however, that he had found it in the pages of a 
grave historian, and had merely tried to tell it in a 
somewhat funnier style. As for Samuel Sewall, he 
afterwards became chief justice of Massachusetts.^ 

" Well, Grandfather," remarked Clara, " if wedding 
portions nowadays were paid as Miss Betsey's was, 
young ladies would not pride themselves upon an airy 
figure, as many of them do." 

1 Whittier's poem, The Prophecy of Samuel Sewall, gives a very 
good picture of the chief justice in his old age. 





A PINE-TREE SHILLING. 



CHAPTER VII. 

THE QUAKERS AND THE INDIANS. 

When his little audience next assembled round the 
chair, Grandfather gave them a doleful history of the 
Quaker persecution, which began in 1656, and raged 
for about three years in Massachusetts. 

He told them how, in the first place, twelve of the 
converts of George Fox, the first Quaker in the world, 
had come over from England. They seemed to be 
impelled by an earnest love for the souls of men, and 
a pure desire to make known what they considered a 
revelation from Heaven. But the rulers looked upon 
them as plotting the downfall of all government and 
religion. They were banished from the colony. In a 
little while, however, not only the first twelve had re- 
turned, but a multitude of other Quakers had come to 
rebuke the rulers and to preach against the priests and 
steeple-houses. 

Grandfather described the hatred and scorn with 
which these enthusiasts were received. They were 
thrown into dungeons ; they were beaten with many 
stripes, women as well as men ; they were driven forth 
into the wilderness, and left to the tender mercies of 
wild beasts and Indians. The children were amazed 
to hear that the more the Quakers were scourged, 
and imprisoned, and banished, the more did the sect 
increase, both by the influx of strangers and by con- 
verts from among the Puritans. But Grandfather 



36 GRANDFATHERS CHAIR. 

told tliem that God had put something into the soul 
of man, which always turned the cruelties of the per- 
secutor to nought. 

He went on to relate that, in 1659, two Quakers, 
named William Robinson and Marmaduke Stephen- 
son, were hanged at Boston. A woman had been sen- 
tenced to die with them, but was reprieved on condi- 
tion of her leaving the colony. Her name was Mary 
Dyer. In the year 1660 she returned to Boston, al- 
though she knew death awaited her there ; and, if 
Grandfather had been correctly informed, an incident 
had then taken place which connects her with our 
story. This Mary Dyer had entered the mint-master's 
dwelling, clothed in sackcloth and ashes, and seated 
herself in our great chair with a sort of dignity and 
state. Then she proceeded to deliver what she called 
a message from Heaven, but in the midst of it they 
dragged her to prison. 

"And was she executed?" asked Laurence. 

" She was," said Grandfather. 

" Grandfather," cried Charley, clinching his fist, 
" I would have fought for that poor Quaker woman ! " 

" Ah, but if a sword had been drawn for her," said 
Laurence, " it would have taken away all the beauty 
of her death." 

It seemed as if hardly any of the preceding stories 
had thrown such an interest around Grandfather's 
chair as did the fact that the poor, persecuted, wander- 
ing Quaker woman had rested in it for a moment. 
The children were so much excited that Grandfather 
found it necessary to bring his account of the persecu- 
tion to a close. 

"In 1660, the same year in which Mary Dyer was 
executed," said he, " Charles II. was restored to the 



THE QUAKERS AND THE INDIANS. 37 

throne of his fathers. This king had many vices ; but 
he would not permit blood to be shed, under pretence 
of religion, in any part of his dominions. The Quak- 
ers in England told him what had been done to their 
brethren in Massachusetts ; and he sent orders to 
Governor Endicott to forbear all such proceedings in 
future. And so ended the Quaker persecution, — one 
of the most mournful passages in the history of our 
forefathers." ^ 

Grandfather then told his auditors, that, shortly 
after the above incident, the great chair had been 
given by the mint-master to the Rev. Mr. John Eliot. 
He was the first minister of Roxbury. But besides 
attending to the jDastoral duties there, he learned the 
language of the red men, and often went into the 
woods to preach to them. So earnestly did he labor 
for their conversion that he has always been called the 
apostle to the Indians. The mention of this holy man 
suggested to Grandfather the projDriety of giving a 
brief sketch of the history of the Indians, so far as 
they were connected with the English colonists. 

A short period before the arrival of the first Pil- 
grims at Plymouth there had been a very grievous 
plague among the red men ; and the sages and minis- 
ters of that day were inclined to the opinion that Prov- 
idence had sent this mortality in order to make room 
for the settlement of the English. But I know not 
why we should suppose that an Indian's life is less 

1 Hawthorne laid the scenes of one of his longer stories, The 
Gentle Boy, in the time of the Quaker persecution, and Whit- 
tier has several poems relating to the same event, such as The 
Exiles, Cassandra Southwick, How the Women Went from Dover. 
His poem The King^s Missive especially tells the story of the 
close of the persecution. 



38 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

precious, in the eye of Heaven, than that of a white 
man. Be that as it may, death had certainly been 
very busy with the savage tribes. 

In many phices the English found the wigwams de- 
serted and the cornfields growing to waste, with none 
to harvest the grain. There were heaps of earth also, 
which, being dug open, proved to be Indian graves, 
containing bows and flint-headed spears and arrows ; 
for the Indians buried the dead warrior's weapons 
along with him. In some spots there were skulls and 
other human bones lying unburied. In 1633, and the 
year afterwards, the small-pox broke out among the 
Massachusetts Indians, multitudes of whom died by 
this terrible disease of the Old World. These mis- 
fortunes made them far less powerful than they had 
formerly been. 

For nearly half a century after the arrival of the 
English the red men showed themselves generally in- 
clined to peace and amity. They often made submis- 
sion when they might have made successful war. The 
Plymouth settlers, led by the famous Captain Miles 
Standish, slew some of them, in 1623, without any very 
evident necessity for so doing. In 1636, and the fol- 
lowing year, there was the most dreadful war that had 
yet occurred between the Indians and the English. 
The Connecticut settlers, assisted by a celebrated In- 
dian chief named Uncas, bore the brunt of this war, 
with but little aid from Massachusetts. Many hun- 
dreds of the hostile Indians were slain or burned in 
their wigwams. Sassacus, their sachem, fled to an- 
other tribe, after his own people were defeated ; but 
he was murdered by them, and his head was sent to 
his English enemies. 

From that period down to the time of King Philip's 



THE QUAKERS AND THE INDIANS. 39 

War, wliieh will be mentioned hereafter, there was not 
much trouble with the Indians. But the colonists were 
always on their guard, and kept their weapons ready 
for the conflict. 

"I have sometimes doubted," said Grandfather, 
when he had told these things to the children, — "I 
have sometimes doubted whether there was more than 
a single man among our forefathers who realized that 
an Indian possesses a mind, and a heart, and an im- 
mortal soul. That single man was John Eliot. All 
the rest of the early settlers seemed to think that the 
Indians were an inferior race of beings, whom the 
Creator had merely allowed to keep possession of this 
beautiful country till the white men should be in want 
of it." 

*^ Did the pious men of those days never try to 
make Christians of them ? " asked Laurence. 

" Sometimes, it is true," answered Grandfather, 
*' the magistrates and ministers would talk about civi- 
lizing and converting the r<3d people. But, at the bot- 
tom of their hearts, they would have had almost as 
much expectation of civilizing the wild bear of the 
woods and making him fit for paradise. They felt no 
faith in the success of any such attempts, because they 
had no love for the poor Indians. Now, Eliot was 
full of love for them ; and therefore so full of faith 
and ho])e that he spent the labor of a lifetime in their 
behalf." 

" I would have conquered them first, and then con- 
verted them," said Charley. 

" Ah, Charley, there spoke the very spirit of our 
forefathers ! " rei)lied Grandfather. " But Mr. Eliot 
had a better spirit. He looked upon them as his 
brethren. He persuaded as many of them as he could 



40 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

to leave off their idle and wandering habits, and to 
build houses and cultivate the earth, as the English 
did. He established schools among them and taught 
many of the Indians how to read. He taught them, 
likewise, how to pray. Hence they were called ' pray- 
ing Indians.' Finally, having spent the best years 
of his life for their good, Mr. Eliot resolved to spend 
the remainder in doing them a yet greater benefit." 

" I know what that was ! " cried Laurence. 

" He sat down in his study," contjaiued Grandfather, 
" and began a translation of the Bible into the Indian 
tongue. It was while he was engaged in this pious 
work that the mint-master gave him our great chair. 
His toil needed it and deserved it." 

" O Grandfather, tell us all about that Indian 
Bible ! " exclaimed Laurence. " I have seen it in the 
library of the Athenieum ; and the tears came into my 
eyes to think that there were no Indians left to read 
it." 



f 



CHAPTER VIII. 

THE INDIAN BIBLE. 

As Grandfather was a great admirer of the apostle 
Eliot, he was glad to comply with the earnest request 
which Laurence had made at the close of the last 
chapter. So he proceeded to describe how good Mr. 
Eliot labored, while he was at work upon the Indian 
Bible. 

My dear children, what a task would you think it, 
even with a long lifetime before you, were you bidden 
to copy every chapter, and verse, and word, in yonder 
family Bible ! Would not this be a heavy toil ? But 
if the task were, not to write oif the English Bible, but 
to learn a language utterly unlike all other tongues, 
— a lanouaoe which hitherto had never been learned, 
except by the Indians themselves, from their mothers' 
lips, — a language never written, and the strange 
words of which seemed inexpressible by letters, — if 
the task were, first to learn this new variety of speech, 
and then to translate the Bible into it, and to do it so 
carefully that not one idea throughout the holy book 
should be changed, — what would induce you to un- 
dertake this toil ? Yet this was what the apostle Eliot 
did. 

It was a mighty work for a man, now growing old, 
to take upon himself. And what earthly reward could 
he expect from it ? None ; no reward on earth. But 
he believed that the red men were the descendants of 



'jaSi 



42 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

those lost tribes of Israel of whom history has been 
able to tell us nothing- for thousands of years. He 
hoped that God had sent the English across the ocean, 
Gentiles as they were, to enlighten this benighted por- 
tion of his once chosen race. And when he should be 
summoned hence, he trusted to meet blessed spirits 
in another world, whose bliss would have been earned 
by his j^atient toil in translating the word of God. 
This hope and trust were far dearer to him than any- 
thing that earth could offer. 

Sometimes, while thus at work, he was visited by 
learned men, who desired to know what literary un- 
dertaking Mr. Eliot had in hand. They, like him- 
self, had been bred in the studious cloisters of a uni- 
versity, and were supposed to possess all the erudition 
which mankind has hoarded up from age to age. 
Greek and Latin were as familiar to them as the bab- 
ble of their childhood. Hebrew was like their mother 
tongue. They had grown gray in study ; their eyes 
were bleared with poring over print and manuscript 
by the light of the midnight lamp. 

And yet, how much had they left unlearned ! Mr. 
Eliot would put into their hands some of the pages 
which he had been writing ; and behold ! the gray- 
headed men stammered over the long, strange words, 
like a little child in his first attempts to read. Then 
would the apostle call to him an Indian boy, one of 
his scholars, and show him the manuscript which had 
so puzzled the learned Englishmen. 

'* Read this, my child," would he say ; " these are 
some brethren of mine, who would fain hear the sound 
of thy native tongue." 

Then woidd the Indian boy cast his eyes over the 
mysterious page, and read it so skilfully that it 



THE INDIAN BIBLE. 43 

sounded like wild music. It seemed as if the forest 
leaves were singing in the ears of his auditors, and as 
if the roar of distant streams were poured through 
the young Indian's voice. Such were the sounds amid 
which the language of the red man had been formed ; 
and they were still heard to echo in it. 

The lesson being over, Mr. Eliot would give the In- 
dian boy an apple or a cake, and bid him leap forth 
into the open air which his free nature loved. The 
apostle was kind to children, and even shared in their 
sports sometimes. And when his visitors had bidden 
him farewell, the good man turned patiently to his 
toil again. 

No other Englishman had ever imderstood the In- 
dian character so well, nor possessed so great an influ- 
ence over the New England tribes, as the apostle did. 
His advice and assistance must often have been valu- 
able to his countrymen in their transactions with the 
Indians. Occasionally, perhaps, the governor and 
some of the councillors came to visit Mr. Eliot. Per- 
chance they were seeking some method to circumvent 
the forest people. They inquired, it may be, how they 
could obtain possession of such and such a tract of 
their rich land. Or they talked of making the Indians 
their servants ; as if God had destined them for per- 
petual bondage to the more powerful white man. 

Perhaps, too, some warlike captain, dressed in his 
buff coat, with a corselet beneath it, accompanied the 
governor and councillors. Laying his hand upon his 
sword hilt, he would declare that the only method of 
dealing with the red men was to meet them with the 
sword drawn and the musket presented. 

But the apostle resisted both the craft of the politi- 
cian and the fierceness of the warrior. 



44 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

" Treat these sons of the forest as men and breth- 
ren," he would say ; " and let us endeavor to make 
them Christians. Their forefathers were of that 
chosen race whom God delivered from Egyptian bond- 
age. Perchance he has destined us to deliver the chil- 
dren from the more cruel bondage of ignorance and 
idolatry. Chiefly for this end, it may be, we were 
directed across the ocean." 

When these other visitors were gone, Mr. Eliot 
bent himself again over the half-written page. He 
dared hardly relax a moment from his toil. He felt 
that, in the book which he was translating, there was 
a deep human as well as heavenly wisdom, which 
would of itself suffice to civilize and refine the savage 
tribes. Let the Bible be diffused among them, and 
all earthly good would follow. But how slight a con- 
sideration was this, when he reflected that the eternal 
welfare of a whole race of men de23ended upon his 
accomplishment of the task which he had set himself ! 
What if his hands should be palsied ? What if his 
mind should lose its vigor ? What if death should 
come upon him ere the work were done ? Then must 
the red man wander in the dark wilderness of hea- 
thenism forever. 

Impelled by such thoughts as these, he sat writing 
in the great chair when the pleasant summer breeze 
came in through his open casement ; and also when 
the fire of forest logs sent up its blaze and smoke, 
through the broad stone chimney, into the wintry air. 
Before the earliest bird sang in the morning the apos- 
tle's lamp was kindled ; and, at midnight, his weary 
head was not yet upon its pillow. And at length, 
leaning back in the great chair, he could say to him- 
self, with a holy triumph, " The work is finished ! " 



mimmmmmmmmnmmm 

•>€ — ' " 22 






11 UP-BIBLUM GOD 

Unukkone testament 

WUSKU TESTAMENT. 



:Sl KAH WONK 

•Xi| 
•>6 

•>« 
•>€ 
•>6 
•>6 
•>6 

«>6 

•>€ 

•>« 
•)€ 

•>6 



Ne qaoOikinnumok naihp* WuUinneumoh fHRJST 

noh afoo>vclit 

]OHN ELIOT 



•!>6 
•>6 

«>€ 
•>« 
•>« 
•>« 

•^ 
•>€ 



1 6 <J 3. 



S4» 



3<» 

9<» 
?«• 

^« 
»!• 

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34» 



??? 



FACSIMILE, SLIGHTLY REDUCED, OF THE TLPLE-PAGE OF 
ELIOT's TXDIAN BIBLE 

Translated by ,.e apostle John EHo^ The first ^^^^^^^l:^ ^^^'^^ 
in .(S63. the type being set in part by praying I ndians. The 
ot th3 Natick tribe. 



THE INDIAN BIBLE. 45 

It was iinislied. Here was a Bible for the Indians. 
Those long-lost descendants of the ten tribes of Israel 
would now learn the history of their forefathers. That 
grace which the ancient Israelites had forfeited was 
offered anew to their children. 

There is no impiety in believing that, when his long 
life was over, the apostle of the Indians was welcomed 
to the celestial abodes by the prophets of ancient days 
and by those earliest apostles and evangelists who had 
drawn their inspiration from the immediate presence 
of the Saviour. They first had preached truth and 
salvation to the world. And Eliot, separated from 
them by many centuries, yet full of the same spirit, 
has borne the like message to the New World of the 
west. Since the first days of Christianity, there has 
been no man more worthy to be numbered in the 
brotherhood of the apostles than Eliot. 

" My heart is not satisfied to think," observed Lau- 
rence, " that Mr. Eliot's labors have done no good ex- 
cept to a few Indians of his own time. Doubtless he 
would not have regretted his toil, if it were the means 
of saving but a single soul. But it is a grievous thing 
to me that he should have toiled so hard to translate 
the Bible, and now the language and the jDCople are 
gone ! The Indian Bible itself is almost the only relic 
of both." 

" Laurence," said his Grandfather, " if ever you 
should doubt that man is capable of disinterested zeal 
for his brother's good, then remember how the apostle 
Eliot toiled. And if you should feel your own self- 
interest pressing upon your heart too closely, then 
think of Eliot's Indian Bible. It is good for the 
world that such a man has lived and left this emblem 
of his life." 



46 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

The tears guslied into the eyes of Laurence, and he 
acknowledged that Eliot had not toiled in vain. Lit- 
tle Alice put up her arms to Grandfather, and drew 
down his white head beside her own golden locks. 

" Grandfather," whispered she, " I want to kiss 
good Mr. Eliot ! " 

And, doubtless, good Mr. Eliot would gladly receive 
the kiss of so sweet a child as little Alice, and would 
think it a portion of his reward in heaven. 

Grandfather now observed that Dr. Francis had 
written a very beautiful Life of Eliot, which he ad- 
vised Laurence to peruse. He then spoke of King 
Philip's War, which began in 1675, and terminated 
with the death of King Philip, in the following year. 
Philip was a proud, fierce Indian, whom Mr. Eliot 
had vainly endeavored to convert to the Christian 
faith. 

" It must have been a great anguish to the apostle," 
continued Grandfather, " to hear of mutual slaughter 
and outrage between his own countrymen and those 
for whom he felt the affection of a father. A few 
of the praying Indians joined the followers of King 
Philip. A greater number fought on the side of the 
English. In the course of the war the little commu- 
nity of red people whom Mr. Eliot had begun to civ- 
ilize was scattered, and probably never was restored 
to a flourishing condition. But his zeal did not grow 
cold ; and only about five years before his death he 
took great pains in preparing a new edition of the In- 
dian Bible." 

" I do wish. Grandfather," cried Charley, " you 
would tell us all about the battles in King Philip's 
War." 

" Oh no 1 " exclaimed Clara. " Who wants to hear 
about tomahawks and scalping knives ? " 



THE INDIAN BIBLE. 47 

" No, Charley," replied Grandfather, " I have no 
time to spare in talking about battles. You must be 
content with knowing that it was the bloodiest war 
that the Indians had ever waged against the white 
men ; and that, at its close, the English set King 
Philip's head upon a pole." 

"Who was the captain of the English?" asked 
Charley. 

" Their most noted captain was Benjamin Church, 
— a very famous warrior," said Grandfather. " But 
I assure you, Charley, that neither Captain Church, 
nor any of the officers and soldiers who fought in 
King Philip's War, did anything a thousandth part 
so glorious as Mr. Eliot did when he translated the 
Bible for the Indians." 

"Let Laurence be the apostle," said Charley to 
himself, " and I will be the captain." ^ 

^ That the readers of this book may know something more 
of the apostle Eliot, we have copied some accounts of his life 
from the biography by Dr. Convers Francis, to which Hawthorne 
refers. The narrative will be found at page C6 of this book. 



CHAPTER IX. 

ENGLAND AND NEW ENGLAND. 

The children were now accustomed to assemble 
round Grandfather's chair at all their unoccupied mo- 
ments ; and often it was a striking picture to behold 
the white-headed old sire, with this flowery wreath of 
young people around him. When he talked to them, 
it was the past speaking to the present, or rather to 
the future, — for the children were of a generation 
which had not become actual. Their part in life, thus 
far, was only to be happy and to draw knowledge from 
a thousand sources. As yet, it was not their time 
to do. 

Sometimes, as Grandfather gazed at their fair, un- 
worldl}' countenances, a mist of tears bedimmed his 
spectacles. He almost regretted that it was necessary 
for them to know anything of the past or to provide 
aught for the future. He could have wished that they 
might be always the happy, j^outhful creatures who 
had hitherto sported around his chair, without inquir- 
ing whether it had a histor}^ It grieved him to think 
that his little Alice, who was a flower bud fresh from 
paradise, must open her leaves to the rough breezes of 
the world, or ever open them in any clime. So sweet 
a child she was, that it seemed fit her infancy should 
be immortal. 

But such repinings were merely flitting shadows 
across the old man's heart. He had faith enough to 



ENGLAND AND NEW ENGLAND. 49 

believe, and wisdom enough to know, that the bloom 
of the flower would be even holier and happier than 
its bud. Even within himself, though Grandfather 
was now at that period of life when the veil of mor- 
tality is apt to hang heavily over the soul, still, in 
his inmost being he was conscious of something that 
he w^ould not have exchanged for the best hapi)iness 
of childhood. It was a bliss to which every sort of 
earthly experience — all that he had enjoyed, or suf- 
fered, or seen, or heard, or acted, wdth the broodings 
of his soul upon the whole — had contributed some- 
what. In the same manner must a bliss, of which 
now they could have no conception, grow up within 
these children, and form a part of their sustenance 
for immortality. 

So Grandfather, with renewed cheerfulness, contin- 
ued his history of the chair, trusting that a profounder 
wisdom than his own would extract, from these flowers 
and weeds of Time, a fragrance that might last beyond 
all time. 

At this period of the story Grandfather threw a 
glance backward as far as the year 1660. He spoke 
of the ill-concealed reluctance with which the Puritans 
in America had acknowledged the sway of Charles II. 
on his restoration to his father's throne. When death 
had stricken Oliver Cromwell, that mighty protector 
had no sincerer mourners than in New Enoland. The 
new king had been more than a year upon the throne 
before his accession was proclaimed in Boston, although 
the neglect to perform the ceremony might have sub- 
jected the rulers to the charge of treason. 

During the reign of Charles II., however, the 
American colonies had but little reason to complain 
of harsh or tyrannical treatment. But when Charles 



50 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

died, in 1685, and was succeeded by his brother 
James, the patriarchs of New England began to trem- 
ble. King James was known to be of an arbitrary- 
temper. It was feared by the Puritans that he would 
assume despotic power. Our forefathers felt that 
they had no security either for their religion or their 
liberties. 

The result proved that they had reason for their ap- 
prehensions. King James caused the charters of all 
the American colonies to be taken away. The old 
charter of Massachusetts, which the people regarded 
as a holy thing and as the foundation of all their lib- 
erties, was declared void. The colonists were now no 
longer freemen ; they were entirely dependent on the 
king's pleasure. At first, in 1685, King James ap- 
pointed Joseph Dudley, a native of Massachusetts, to 
be president of New England. But soon afterwards. 
Sir Edmund Andros, an officer of the English arm}^ 
arrived, with a commission to be governor-general of 
New England and New York. 

The king had given such powers to Sir Edmund 
Andros that there was now no liberty, nor scarcely 
any law, in the colonies over which he ruled. The 
inhabitants were not allowed to choose representa- 
tives, and consequently had no voice whatever in the 
government, nor control over the measures that were 
adopted. The councillors with whom the governor 
consulted on matters of state were a^Dpointed by him- 
self. This sort of government was no better than an 
absolute despotism. 

"The people suffered much wrong while Sir Ed- 
mund Andros ruled over them," continued Grand- 
father ; " and they were apprehensive of much more. 
He had brou^^ht some soldiers with him from Ens:- 



ENGLAND AND NEW ENGLAND. 51 

land, who took possession of the old fortress on Castle 
Island and of the fortification on Fort Hill. Some- 
times it was rumored that a general massacre of the 
inhabitants was to be j^erpetrated by these soldiers. 
There were reports, too, that all the ministers were to 
be slain or imprisoned." 

" For what? " inquired Charley. 

" Because they were the leaders of the people, 
Charley," said Grandfather. "A minister was a 
more formidable man than a general, in those days. 
Well, while these things were going on in America, 
King James had so misgoverned the people of Eng- 
land that they sent over to Holland for the Prince 
of Orange. He had married the king's daughter, 
and was therefore considered to have a claim to 
the crown. On his arrival in England, the Prince 
of Orange was proclaimed king, by the name of 
William III. Poor old King James made his escape 
to France." 

Grandfather told how, at the first intelligence of the 
landing of the Prince of Orange in England, the peo- 
ple of Massachusetts rose in their strength and over- 
threw the government of Sir Edmund Andros. He, 
with Joseph Dudley, Edmund Randolph, and his other 
principal adherents, was thrown into prison. Old 
Simon Bradstreet, who had been governor when King 
James took away the charter, wa% called by the people 
to govern them again. 

" Governor Bradstreet was a venerable old man, 
nearly ninety years of age," said Grandfather. " He 
came over with the first settlers, and had been the in- 
timate companion of all those excellent and famous 
men who laid the foundation of our country. They 
were all gone before him to the grave, and Bradstreet 
was the last of the Puritans." 



52 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

Grandfather paused a moment and smiled, as if lie 
had something very interesting to tell his auditors. 
He then proceeded : — 

" And now, Laurence, — now, Clara, — now, Char- 
ley, — now, my dear little Alice, — what chair do 
you think had been placed in the council chamber, 
for old Governor Bradstreet to take his seat in? 
Would you believe that it was this very chair in 
which Grandfather now sits, and of which he is tell- 
ing you the history ? " 

'' I am glad to hear it, with all my heart ! " cried 
Charley, after a shout of delight. " I thought Grand- 
father had quite forgotten the chair." 

" It was a solemn and affecting sight," said Grand- 
father, " when this venerable patriarch, with his white 
beard flowing down upon his breast, took his seat in 
his chair of state. Within his remembrance, and even 
since his mature age, the site where now stood the 
populous town had been a wild and forest-covered 
peninsula. The province, now so fertile and spotted 
with thriving villages, had been a desert wilderness. 
He was surrounded by a shouting multitude, most of 
whom had been born in the country which he had 
helped to found. They were of one generation, and 
he of another. As the old man looked upon them, 
and beheld new faces everywhere, he must have felt 
that it was now time *f or him to go whither his breth- 
ren had gone before him." 

" Were the former governors all dead and gone ? " 
asked Laurence. 

" All of them," replied Grandfather. " Winthrop 
had been dead forty years. Endicott died, a very old 
man, in 1665. Sir Henry Vane was beheaded, in 
London, at the beginning of the reign of Charles II. 



ENGLAND AND NEW ENGLAND. 53 

And Haynes, Dudley, Bellingham, and Leverett, who 
had all been governors of Massachusetts, were now 
likewise in their graves. Old Simon Bradstreet was 
the sole representative of that departed brotherhood. 
There was no other i^ublic man remaining to connect 
the ancient system of government and manners with 
the new system which was about to take its place. 
The era of the Puritans was now completed." 

" I am sorry for it ! " observed Laurence ; " for 
though they were so stern, yet it seems to me that 
there was something warm and real about them. I 
think. Grandfather, that each of these old governors 
should have his statue set up in our State House, 
sculptured out of the hardest of New England gran- 
ite." 

"It would not be amiss, Laurence," said Grand- 
father ; '* but perhaps clay, or some other perishable 
material, might suffice for some of their successors. 
But let us go back to our chair. It was occupied by 
Governor Bradstreet from April, 1689, until May, 
1692. Sir William Phips then arrived in Boston with 
a new charter from King William and a- commission 
to be governor." ^ 

1 Hawthorne's story of The Gray Champion belongs to this 
period. 



^ 



CHAPTER X. 

THE SUNKEN TREASURE. 

" And what became of the chair ? " inquired Clara. 

" The outward aspect of our chair," replied Grand- 
father, " was now somewhat the worse for its long and 
arduous services. It was considered hardly magnifi- 
cent enough to be allowed to keep its i^lace in the 
council chamber of Massachusetts. In fact, it was 
banished as an article of useless lumber. But Sir 
William Phips hajipened to see it, and, being much 
pleased with its construction, resolved to take the good 
old chair into his private mansion. Accordingly, with 
his own gubernatorial hands, he repaired one of its 
arms, which had been slightly damaged." 

" Why, Grandfather, here is the very arm ! " inter- 
rupted Charley, in great wonderment. " And did Sir 
William Phips put in these screws with his own 
hands ? I am sure he did it beautifully ! But how 
came a governor to know how to mend a chair ? " 

" I will tell you a story about the early life of Sir 
William Phips," said Grandfather. " You will then 
perceive that he well knew how to use his hands." 

So Grandfather related the wonderful and true tale 
of the sunken treasure. 

Picture to yourselves, my dear children, a hand- 
some, old-fashioned room, with a large, open cupboard 
at one end, in which is displayed a magnificent gold 
cup, with some other splendid articles of gold and 



THE SUNKEN TREASURE. 55 

silver plate. In another part of the room, opposite to 
a tall looking-glass, stands our beloved chair, newly 
polished, and adorned with a gorgeous cushion of 
crimson velvet tufted with gold. 

In the chair sits a man of strong and sturdy frame, 
whose face has been roughened by northern tempests 
and blackened by the burning sun of the West Indies. 
He wears an immense periwig, flowing down over his 
shoulders. His coat has a wide embroidery of golden 
foliage ; and his waistcoat, likewise, is all flowered over 
and bedizened with gold. His red, rough hands, which 
have done many a good day's work with the hammer 
and adze, are half covered by the delicate lace ruffles 
at his wrists. On a table lies his silver-hilted sword ; 
and in a corner of the room stands his o:old-headed 
cane, made of a beautifully polished West India wood. 

Somewhat such an aspect as this did Sir William 
Phips present when he sat in Grandfather's chair 
after the king had appointed him governor of Massa- 
chusetts. Truly there was need that the old chair 
should be varnished and decorated with a crimson 
cushion, in order to make it suitable for such a mag- 
nificent-looking personage. 

But Sir William Phips had not always worn a 
gold-embroidered coat, nor always sat so much at his 
ease as he did in Grandfather's chair. He was a poor 
man's son, and was born in the province of Maine, 
where he used to tend sheep upon the hills in his boy- 
hood and youth. Until he had grown to be a man, he 
did not even know how to read and write. Tired of 
tending sheep, he next apprenticed himself to a ship- 
carpenter, and spent about four years in hewing the 
crooked limbs of oak-trees into knees for vessels. 

In 1673, when he was twenty-two years old, he came 



56 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

to Boston, and soon afterwards was married to a widow 
lady, who had property enough to set him up in busi- 
ness. It was not long, however, before he lost all the 
money that he had acquired by his marriage, and be- 
came a i^oor man again. Still he was not discouraged. 
He often told his wife that, some time or other, he 
should be very rich, and would build a " fair brick 
house " in the Green Lane of Boston. 

Do not suppose, children, that he had been to a for- 
tune-teller to inquire his destiny. It was his own 
energy and spirit of enterprise, and his resolution to 
lead an industrious life, that made him look forward 
with so much confidence to better days. 

Several years passed away, and William Phips had 
not yet gained the riches which he promised to himself. 
During this time he had begun to follow the sea for a 
living. In the year 1684 he happened to hear of a 
Spanish ship which had been cast away near the Ba^ 
hama Islands, ajid which was supposed to contain a 
great deal of gold and silver. Phi^Ds went to the 
place in a small vessel, hoping that he should be able 
to recover some of the treasure from the wreck. He 
did not succeed, however, in fishing up gold and silver 
enough to pay the expenses of his voyage. 

But, before he returned, he was told of another 
SjDanish ship, or galleon, which had been cast away 
near Porto de la Plata. She had now lain as much 
as fifty years beneath the waves. This old ship had 
been laden with immense wealth ; and, hitherto, no- 
body had thought of the possibility of recovering any 
part of it from the deep sea which was rolling and 
tossing it about. But though it was now an old story, 
and the most aged people had almost forgotten that 
such a vessel had been wrecked, William Phips re- 



THE SUNKEN TREASURE. bl 

solved that the sunken treasure should again be brought 
to light. 

He went to London and obtained admittance to 
King James, who had not yet been driven from his 
throne. He told the king of the vast wealth that was 
lying at the bottom of the sea. King James listened 
with attention, and thought this a fine opportunity to 
fill his treasury with Spanish gold. He appointed 
William Phips to be captain of a vessel, called the 
Rose Algier, carrying eighteen guns and ninety-five 
men. So now he was Captain Phips of the English 
navy. 

Captain Phij^s sailed from England in the Rose 
Algier, and cruised for nearly two years in the West 
Indies, endeavoring to find the wreck of the Spanish 
ship. But the sea is so wide and deep that it is no 
easy matter to discover the exact spot where a sunken 
vessel lies. The prospect of success seemed very small ; 
and most people would have thought that Captain 
Phips was as far from having money enough to build 
a " fair brick house " as he was while he tended sheep. 

The seamen of the Rose Algier became discouraged, 
and gave up all hope of making their fortunes by dis- 
covering the Spanish wreck. They wanted to compel 
Captain Phips to turn pirate. There was a much 
better prospect, they thought, of growing rich by plun- 
dering vessels which still sailed in the sea than by 
seeking for a ship that had lain beneath the waves 
full half a century. They broke out in open mutiny ; 
but were finally mastered by Phips, and compelled to 
obey his orders. It would have been dangerous, how- 
ever, to continue much longer at sea with such a crew 
of mutinous sailors ; and, besides, the Rose Algier was 
leaky and unseaworthy. So Captain Phips judged it 
best to return to England. 



58 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

Before leaving the West Indies, he met with a Span- 
iard, an old man, who remembered the wreck of the 
Spanish ship, and gave him directions how to find the 
very spot. It was on a reef of rocks, a few leagues 
from Porto de la Plata. 

On his arrival in England, therefore. Captain Phips 
solicited the king to let him have another vessel and 
send him back again to the West Indies. But King 
James, who had probably expected that the Rose Al- 
gier would return laden with gold, refused to have 
anything more to do with the affair. Phips might 
never have been able to renew the' search if the Duke 
of Albemarle and some other noblemen had not lent 
their assistance. They fitted out a ship, and gave the 
command to Captain Phips. He sailed from Eng- 
land, and arrived safely at Porto de la Plata, where 
he took an adze and assisted his men to build a large 
boat. 

The boat was intended for the purpose of going closer 
to the reef of rocks than a large vessel could safely 
venture. When it was finished, the captain sent sev- 
eral men in it to examine the spot where the Spanish 
ship was said to have been wrecked. They were ac- 
companied by some Indians, who were skilful divers, 
and could go down a great way into the depths of the 
sea. 

The boat's crew proceeded to the reef of rocks, and 
rowed round and round it a great many times. They 
gazed down into the water, which was so transparent 
that it seemed as if they could have seen the gold and 
silver at the bottom, had there been any of those pre- 
cious metals there. Nothing, however, could they see ; 
nothing more valuable than a curious sea shrub, which 
was growing beneath the water, in a crevice of the 



THE SUNKEN TREASURE. 59 

reef of rocks. It flaunted to and fro with the swell 
and reflux of the waves, and looked as bright and 
beautiful as if its leaves were gold. 

" We won't go back empty-handed," cried an Eng- 
lish sailor; and then he spoke to one of the Indian 
divers. "Dive down and bring me that pretty sea 
shrub there. That 's the only treasure we shall find." 

Down plunged the diver, and soon rose dripping from 
the water, holding the sea shrub in his hand. But he 
had learned some news at the bottom of the sea. 

" There are some ship's guns," said he, the moment 
he had drawn breath, " some great cannon, among the 
rocks, near where the shrub was growing." 

No sooner had he spoken than the English sailors 
knew that they had found the very spot where the 
Spanish galleon had been wrecked, so many years be- 
fore. The other Indian divers immediately plunged 
over the boat's side and swam headlong down, grop- 
ing among the rocks and sunken cannon. In a few 
moments one of them rose above the water with a 
heavy lump of silver in his arms. The single lump 
was worth more than a thousand dollars. The sailors 
took it into the boat, and then rowed back as speedily 
as they could, being in haste to inform Captain Phips 
of their good luck. 

But, confidently as the captain had hoped to find 
the Spanish wreck, yet, now that it was really found, 
the news seemed too good to be true. He could not 
believe it till the sailors showed him the lump of 
silver. 

'' Thanks be to God ! " then cries Captain Phips. 
" We shaU every man of us make our fortunes ! " 

Hereupon the captain and all the crew set to work, 
with iron rakes and great hooks and lines, fishing for 



60 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

gold and silver at the bottom of the sea. Up came 
the treasure in abundance. Now they beheld a table 
of solid silver, once the property of an old Spanish 
grandee. Now they found a sacramental vessel, which 
had been destined as a gift to some Catholic church. 
Now they drew up a golden cup, fit for the King of 
Spain to drink his wine out of. Perhaps the bony 
hand of its former owner had been grasping the pre- 
cious cup, and was drawn up along with it. Now their 
rakes or fishing-lines were loaded with masses of silver 
bullion. There were also precious stones among the 
treasure, glittering and sparkling, so that it is a won- 
der how their radiance could have been concealed. 

There is something sad and terrible in the idea of 
snatching all this wealth from the devouring ocean, 
which had possessed it for such a length of years. It 
seems as if men had no right to make themselves rich 
with it. It ought to have been left with the skeletons 
of the ancient Spaniards, who had been drowned when 
the ship was wrecked, and whose bones were now scat- 
tered among the gold and silver. 

But Captain Phips and his crew were troubled 
with no such thoughts as these. After a day or two 
they lighted on another part of the wreck, where they 
found a great many bags of silver dollars. But nobody 
could have guessed that these were money-bags. By 
remaining so long in the salt water, they had become 
covered over with a crust which had the appearance of 
stone, so that it was necessary to break them in pieces 
with hammers and axes. When this was done, a 
stream of silver dollars gushed out upon the deck of 
the vessel. 

The whole value of the recovered treasure, plate, 
bullion, precious stones, and all, was estimated at more 



THE SUNKEN TREASURE. 61 

than two millions of dollars. It was dangerous even 
to look at such a vast amount of wealth. A sea-cap- 
tain, wlio had assisted Phips in the enterprise, utterly- 
lost his reason at the sight of it. He died two years 
afterwards, still raving about the treasures that lie at 
the bottom of the sea. It would have been better for 
this man if he had left the skeletons of the shipwrecked 
Spaniards in quiet possession of their wealth. 

Captain Phips and his men continued to fish up 
plate, bullion, and dollars, as plentifully as ever, till 
their provisions grew short. Then, as they could not 
feed upon gold and silver any more than old King 
Midas could, they found it necessary to go in search 
of better sustenance. Phips resolved to return to 
England. He arrived there in 1687, and was received 
with great joy by the Duke of Albemarle and other 
English lords who had fitted out the vessel. Well 
they might rejoice ; for they took by far the greater 
part of the treasure to themselves. 

Tlie captain's share, however, was enough to make 
him comfortable for the rest of his days. It also ena- 
bled him to fulfil his promise to his wife, by build- 
ing a " fair brick house " in the Green Lane of Boston. 
The Duke of Albemarle sent Mrs. Phips a magnifi- 
cent gold cup, worth at least five thousand dollars. 
Before Captain Phips left London, King James made 
him a knight ; so that, instead of the obscure ship- 
carpenter who had formerly dwelt among them, the 
inhabitants of Boston welcomed him on his return as 
the rich and famous Sir William Phips. 



CHAPTER XI. 

WHAT THE CHAIR HAD KNOWN. 

" Sir William Phips," continued Grandfather, 
" was too active and adventurous a man to sit still in 
the quiet enjoyment of his good fortune. In the year 
1690 he went on a military expedition against the 
French colonies in America, conquered the whole prov- 
ince of Acadia, and returned to Boston with a great 
deal of plunder." 

" Why, Grandfather, he was the greatest man that 
ever sat in the chair ! " cried Charley. 

" Ask Laurence what he thinks," replied Grand- 
father, with a smile. " Well, in the same year. Sir 
William took command of an expedition against Que- 
bec, but did not succeed in capturing the city. • In 
1692, being then in London, King William III. ap- 
pointed him governor of Massachusetts. And now, 
my dear children, having followed Sir William Phips 
through all his adventures and hardships till we find 
him comfortably seated in Grandfather's chair, we will 
here bid him farewell. May he be as happy in ruling 
a people as he was while he tended sheep ! " 

Charley, whose fancy had been greatly taken by the 
adventurous disposition of Sir William Phips, was 
eager to know how he had acted and what happened 
to him while he held the office of governor. But 
Grandfather had made up his mind to tell no more 
stories for the present. 



WHAT THE CHAIR HAD KNOWN. 63 

" Possibly, one of these clays, I may go on with the 
adventures of the chair," said he. ''But its history 
becomes very obscure just at this point ; and I must 
search into some old books and manuscripts before 
proceeding further. Besides, it is now a good time 
to pause in our narrative ; because the new charter, 
which Sir William Phips brought over from England, 
formed a very important epoch in the history of the 
province." 

" Really, Grandfather," observed Laurence, " this 
seems to be the most remarkable chair in the world. 
Its history cannot be told without intertwining it with 
the lives of distinguished men and the great events 
that have befallen the country." 

" True, Laurence," replied Grandfather, smiling ; 
" we must write a book with some such title as this : 
Memoirs of my own Times, by Grandfather's 
Chair." 

" That would be beautiful ! " exclaimed Laurence, 
clapping his hands. 

'' But, after all," continued Grandfather, " any other 
old chair, if it possessed memory and a hand to write 
its recollections, could record stranger stories than any 
that I have told you. From generation to generation, 
a chair sits familiarly in the midst of human interests, 
and is witness to the most secret and confidential in- 
tercourse that mortal man can hold with his fellow. 
The human heart may best be read in the fireside 
chair. And as to external events. Grief and Joy keep 
a continual vicissitude around it and within it. Now 
we see the glad face and glowing form of Joy, sitting 
merrily in the old chair, and throwing a warm fire- 
light radiance over all the household. Now, while we 
thought not of it, the dark-clad mourner, Grief, has 
stolen into the place of Joy, but not to retain it long. 



64 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

The imagination can hardly grasp so wide a subject 
as is embraced in the experience of a family chair." 

" It makes my breath flutter, my heart thrill, to 
think of it," said Laurence. "Yes, a family chair 
must have a deeper history than a chair of state." 

" Oh yes I " cried Clara, expressing a woman's feel- 
ing of the point in question ; " the history of a coun- 
try is not nearly so interesting as that of a single 
family would be." 

" But the history of a country is more easily told," 
said Grandfather. " So, if we proceed with our narra- 
tive of the chair, I shall still confine myself to its con- 
nection with public events." 

Good old Grandfather now rose and quitted the 
room, while the children remained gazing at the chair. 
Laurence, so vivid was his conception of past times, 
would hardly have deemed it strange if its former oc- 
cupants, one after another, had resumed the seat which 
they had each left vacant such a dim length of years 
ago. 

First, the gentle and lovely Lady Arbella would 
have been seen in the old chair, almost sinking out of 
its arms for very weakness ; then Roger Williams, in 
his cloak and band, earnest, energetic, and benevo- 
lent ; then the figure of Anne Hutchinson, with the 
like gesture as when she presided at the assemblages 
of women ; then the dark, intellectual face of Vane, 
"young in years, but in sage counsel old." Next 
would have appeared the successive governors, Win- 
throp, Dudley, Bellingham, and Endicott, who sat in 
the chair while it was a chair of state. Then its 
ample seat would have been pressed by the comfor- 
table, rotund corporation of the honest mint-master. 
Then the half-frenzied shape of Mary Dyer, the per- 
secuted Quaker woman, clad in sackcloth and ashes, 



WHAT THE CHAIR HAD KNOWN. 65 

would have rested in it for a moment. Then the holy, 
apostolic form of Eliot would have sanctified it. Then 
would have arisen, like the shade of departed Puritan- 
ism, the venerable dignity of the white-bearded Gov- 
ernor Bradstreet. Lastly, on the gorgeous crimson 
cushion of Grandfather's chair would have shone the 
purple and golden jnagnificence of Sir William Phips. 

But all these, with the other historic personages, in 
the midst of whom the chair had so often stood, had 
passed, both in substance and shadow, from the scene 
of ages. Yet here stood the chair, with the old Lin- 
coln coat of arms, and the oaken flowers and foliage, 
and the fierce lion's head at the summit, the whole, 
apparently, in as perfect preservation as when it had 
first been placed in the Earl of Lincoln's hall. And 
what vast changes of society and of nations had been 
wrought by sudden convulsions or by slow degrees 
since that era ! 

" This chair had stood firm when the thrones of 
kings were overturned ! " thought Laurence. " Its 
oaken frame has proved stronger than many frames of 
government I " 

More the thoughtful and imaginative boy might 
have mused; but now a large yellow cat, a great 
favorite with all the children, leaped in at the open 
window. Perceiving that Grandfather's chair was 
empty, and having often before experienced its com- 
forts, puss laid herself quietly down upon the cushion. 
Laurence, Clara, Charley, and little Alice all laughed 
at the idea of such a successor to the worthies of old 
times. 

" Pussy," said little Alice, putting out her hand, 
into which the cat laid a velvet paw, " you look very 
wise. Do tell us a story about Grandfather's 
Chair ! " 



APPENDIX TO PART I. 

EXTRACTS FROM THE LIFE OF JOHN ELIOT. 

BY CONVERS FRANCIS. 

Mr. Eliot had been for some time assiduously em- 
ployed in learning the Indian language. To accom- 
plish this, he secured the assistance of one of the na- 
tives, who could speak English. Eliot, at the close of 
his Indian Grammar, mentions him as " a pregnant- 
witted young man, who had been a servant in an Eng- 
lish house, who pretty well understood his own lan- 
guage, and had a clear pronunciation." He took this 
Indian into his family, and by constant intercourse 
with him soon become sufficiently conversant with the 
vocabulary and construction of the language to trans- 
late the ten commandments, the Lord's prayer, and 
several passages of Scripture, besides composing ex- 
hortations and prayers. 

Mr. Eliot must have found his task anything but 
easy or inviting. He was to learn a dialect, in which 
he could be assisted by no affinity with the languages 
he already knew. He was to do this without the help 
of any written or printed specimens, with nothing in 
the shape of a grammar or analysis, but merely by 
oral communication with his Indian instructor, or with 
other natives, who, however comparatively intelligent, 
must from the nature of the case have been very im- 
perfect teachers. He applied himself to the work 
with great patience and sagacity, carefully noting the 



I 



APPENDIX TO PART I. 67 

differences between the Indian and the English modes 
of constructing words ; and, having once got a ch^w to 
this, he pursued every noun and verb he could think 
of through all possible variations. In this way he ar- 
rived at analyses and rules, which he could apply for 
himself in a general manner. 

Neal says that Eliot was able to speak the lan- 
guage intelligibly after conversing with the Indian 
servant a feio months. This, in a limited sense, may 
be true; but he is said to have been engaged two 
years in the process of learning, before he went to 
preach to the Indians. In that time he acquired a 
somewhat ready facility in the use of that dialect, by 
means of which he was to carry the instructions of 
spiritual truth to the men of the forest, though as late 
as 1649 he still lamented his want of skill in this re- 
spect. 

Notice having been given of his intention [of in- 
structing the Indians], Mr. Eliot, in company with 
three others, whose names are not mentioned, having 
implored the divine blessing on the undertaking, made 
his first visit to the Indians on the 28th of October, 
1646, at a place afterwards called Nonantum ; a spot 
that has the honor of being the first on which a civil- 
ized and Christian settlement of Indians was effected 
within the English colonies of North America. This 
name was given to the high grounds in the north-east 
part of Newton, and to the bounds of that town and 
Watertown. At a short distance from the wigwams, 
they were met by Waban, a leading man among the 
Indians at that place, accompanied by otliers, and 
were welcomed with " English salutations." Waban, 
who is described as " the chief minister of justice 
among them," had before shown a better disposition 



68 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

than any other native to receive the religious instruc- 
tion of the Christians, and had voluntarily proposed 
to have his eldest son educated by them. His son 
had been accordingly placed at school in Dedham, 
whence he had now come to attend the meeting. 

The Indians assembled in Waban's wigwam ; and 
thither Mr. Eliot and his friends were conducted. 
When the company were all collected and quiet, a 
religious service was begun with prayer. This was 
uttered in English ; the reason for which, as given by 
Mr. Eliot and his companions, was, that he did not 
then feel sufficiently acquainted with the Indian lan- 
guage to use it in that service. 

The same difficulty would not occur in preaching, 
since for this, we may suppose, he had sufficiently 
prepared his thoughts and expressions to make his 
discourse intelligible on all important points ; and if 
he should, in some parts, fail of being understood, he 
could repeat or correct himself, till he should succeed 
better. Besides, he took with him an interpreter, who 
was frequently able to express his instructions more 
distinctly than he could himself. Though the prayer 
was unintelligible to the Indians, yet, as they knew 
what the nature of the service was, Mr. Eliot believed 
it might not be without an eifect in subduing their 
feelings so as to pl-epare them better to listen to the 
preaching. 

Mr. Eliot then began his sermon, or address, from 
Ezek. x^xvii. 9, 10. The word wind^ in this passage, 
suggested to the minds of some, who afterwards gave 
an account of this meeting, a coincidence which might, 
in the spirit of the times, be construed into a special 
appointment of Providence. The name of Waban 
signified, in the Indian tongue, loind ; so that when 



APPENDIX TO PART I 69 

the preacher uttered the words, "say to the wind," it 
was as if he had proclaimed, "say to Wahan'' As 
this man afterwards exerted much influence in awak- 
ing the attention of his fellow savages to Christianity, 
it might seem that in this first visit of the messengers 
of the gospel he was singled out by a special call to 
work in the cause. It is not surprising that the In- 
dians were struck with the coincidence. Mr. Eliot 
gave no countenance to a superstitious use of the cir- 
cumstance, and took care to tell them that, when he 
chose his text, he had no thought of any such applica- 
tion. 

The sermon was an hour and a quarter long. One 
cannot but suspect that Mr. Eliot injudiciously 
crowded too much into one address. It would seem 
to have been better, for the first time at least, to have 
given a shorter sermon, and to have touched upon 
fewer subjects. But he was doubtless borne on by 
his zeal to do much in a good cause ; and, as we 
have reason to think, by the attentive, though vague, 
curiosity of the Indians. 

Thus ended a conference three hours long, at the 
end of which the Indians affirmed that they were not 
weary, and requested their visitors to come again. 
They expressed a wish to build a town and live to- 
gether. Mr. Eliot promised to intercede for them 
with the court. He and his companions then gave 
the men some tobacco, and the children some apples, 
and bade them farewell. 

A fortnight afterwards, on the 11th of November, 
Mr. Eliot and his friends repeated their visit to the 
wigwam of Waban. This meeting was more numer- 
ous than the former. The religious service was opened, 
as before, with a prayer in English. This was fol- 



70 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

lowed by a few brief and plain questions addressed to 
the children, admitting short ancl easy answers. The 
children seemed well disposed to listen and learn. To 
encourage them, Mr. Eliot gave them occasionally an 
apple or a cake ; and the adidts were requested to 
repeat to them the instructions that had been given. 
He then preached to the assembly in their own lan- 
guage, telling them that he had come to bring them 
good news from God, and show them how wicked men 
might become good and happy ; and, in general, dis- 
coursing on nearly the same topics as he had treated 
at his first visit. 



PART II. 

1692-1763. 

CHAPTER I. 

THE CHAIR IN THE FIRELIGHT. 

" O Grandfather, dear Grandfather," cried little 
Alice, "pray tell us some more stories about your 
chair ! " 

How long a time had fled since the children had 
felt any curiosity to hear the sequel of this venerable 
chair's adventures ! Summer was now past and gone, 
and the better part of autumn likewise. Dreary, chill 
November was howling out of doors, and vexing the 
atmosphere with sudden showers of wintry rain, or 
sometimes with gusts of snow, that rattled like small 
pebbles against the windows. 

When the weather began to grow cool. Grandfather's 
chair had been removed from the summer parlor into 
a smaller and snugger room. It now stood by the 
side of a bright, blazing wood-fire. Grandfather loved 
a wood-fire far better than a grate of glowing anthra- 
cite, or than the dull heat of an invisible furnace, 
which seems to think that it has done its duty in 
merely warming the house. But the wood-fire is a 
kindly, cheerful, sociable spirit, sympathizing with 
mankind, and knowing that to create warmth is but 
one of the good offices which are expected from it. 
Therefore it dances on the hearth, and laughs broadly 



72 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

throughout the room, and plays a thousand antics, 
and throws a joyous glow over all the faces that en- 
circle it. 

In the twilight of the evening the fire grew brighter 
and more cheerful. And thus, perhaps, there was 
something in Grandfather's heart that cheered him 
most with its warmth and comfort in the gathering 
twilight of old age. He had been gazing at the red 
embers as intently as if his past life were all pictured 
there, or as if it were a prospect of the future world, 
when little Alice's voice aroused him. " Dear Grand- 
father," repeated the little girl, more earnestly, " do 
talk to us again about your chair." 

Laurence, and Clara, and Charley, and little Alice 
had been attracted to other objects for two or three 
months past. They had sported in the gladsome sun- 
shine of the present, and so had forgotten the shadowy 
region of the past, in the midst of which stood Grand- 
father's chair. But now, in the autumnal twilight, 
illuminated by the flickering blaze of the wood-fire, 
they looked at the old chair, and thought that it had 
never before worn such an interesting aspect. There 
it stood in the venerable majest}^ of more than two 
hundred years. The light from the hearth quivered 
upon the flowers and foliage that were wrought into 
its oaken back ; and the lion's head at the summit 
seemed almost to move its jaws and shake its mane. 

"Does little Alice speak for all of you?" asked 
Grandfather. " Do you wish me to go on with the 
adventures of the chair ? " 

" Oh yes, yes. Grandfather ! " cried Clara. " The 
dear old chair ! How strange that we should have 
forgotten it so long ! " 

" Oh, pray begin, Grandfather," said Laurence, " for 



t 



THE CHAIR IN THE FIRELIGHT. 73 

I think, when we talk about old times, it should be in 
the early evening, before the candles are lighted. The 
shapes of the famous persons who once sat in the 
chair will be more apt to come back, and be seen 
among us, in this glimmer and pleasant gloom, than 
they would in the vulgar daylight. And, besides, we 
can make pictures of all that you tell us among the 
glowing embers and white ashes." 

Our friend Charley, too, thought the evening the 
best time to hear Grandfather's stories, because he 
could not then be playing out of doors. So finding 
his young auditors unanimous in their petition, the 
good old gentleman took up the narrative of the his- 
toric chair at the point where he had dropped it. 



CHAPTER II. 

THE SALEM WITCHES. 

"You recollect, my dear cliildren," said Grand- 
father, " that we took leave of the chair in 1692, while 
it was occupied by Sir William Phips. This fortu- 
nate treasure-seeker, you will remember, had come over 
from England, with King William's commission, to 
be governor of Massachusetts. Within the limits of 
this province were now included the old colony of 
Plymouth, and the territories of Maine and Nova 
Scotia. Sir William Phips had likewise brought a 
new charter from the king, which served instead of a 
constitution, and set forth the method in which the 
province was to be governed." 

" Did the new charter allow the people all their 
former liberties ? " inquired Laurence. 

" No," replied Grandfather. " Under the first char- 
ter, the people had been the source of all power. Win- 
throp, Endicott, Bradstreet, and the rest of them had 
been governors by the choice of the people, without 
any interference of the king. But henceforth the 
governor was to hold his station solely by the king's 
appointment and during his pleasure ; and the same 
was the case with the lieutenant-governor and some 
other high officers. The people, however, were still 
allowed to choose representatives ; and the governor's 
council was chosen by the General Court." 

" Would the inhabitants have elected Sir William 



THE SALEM WITCHES. 75 

Phlps," asked Laurence, '' if the choice of governor 
had been left to them? " 

" He might probably have been a successful candi- 
date," answered Grandfather; "for his adventures 
and military enterprises had gained him a sort of re- 
nown, which always goes a great way with the people. 
And he had many popular characteristics, — being a 
kind, warm-hearted man, not ashamed of his low origin 
nor haughty in his present elevation. Soon after his 
arrival, he proved that he did not blush to recognize 
his former associates." 

"How was that?" inquired Charley. 

" He made a grand festival at his new brick house," 
said Grandfather, " and invited all the ship-carpenters 
of Boston to be his guests. At the head of the table, 
in our great chair, sat Sir William Phips himself, 
treating these hard-handed men as his brethren, crack- 
ing jokes with them, and talking familiarly about old 
times. I know not whether he wore his embroidered 
dress ; but I rather choose to imagine that he had on 
a suit of rough clothes, such as he used to labor in 
while he was Phips the ship-carpenter." 

" An aristocrat need not be ashamed of the trade," 
observed Laurence ; " for the Czar Peter the Great 
once served an apprenticeship to it." 

" Did Sir William Phips make as good a governor 
as he was a ship-carpenter? " asked Charley. 

" History says but little about his merits as a ship- 
carpenter," answered Grandfather ; " but, as a gov- 
ernor, a great deal of fault was found with him. Al- 
most as soon as he assumed the government, he be- 
came engaged in a very frightful business, which might 
have perplexed a wiser and better cultivated heiid than 
his. This was the witchcraft delusion." 



76 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

And here Grandfather gave his auditors such de- 
tails of this melancholy affair as he thought it lit for 
them to know. They shuddered to hear that a frenzy, 
which led to the death of many innocent persons, had 
originated in the wicked arts of a few children. They 
belonged to the Rev. Mr. Parris, minister of Salem. 
These children complained of being pinched and jDricked 
with pins, and otherwise tormented by the shapes of 
men and women, who were supposed to have power to 
haunt them invisibly, both in darkness and daylight. 
Often in the midst of their family and friends the 
children would pretend to be seized with strange con- 
vulsions, and would cry out that the witches were 
afflicting them. 

These stories spread abroad, and caused great tu- 
mult and alarm. From the foundation of New Eng- 
land, it had been the custom of the inhabitants, in all 
matters of doubt and difficulty, to look to their minis- 
ters for counsel. So they did now ; but, unfortunately, 
the ministers and wise men were more deluded than 
the illiterate people. Cotton Mather, a very learned 
and eminent clergyman, believed that the whole coun- 
try was full of witches and wizards, who had given up 
their hoj)es of heaven, and signed a covenant with the 
evil one. 

Nobody could be certain that his nearest neighbor 
or most intimate friend was not guilty of this imag- 
inary crime. The number of those who pretended to 
be afflicted by witchcraft grew daily more numerous ; 
and they bore testimony against many of the best and 
worthiest people. A minister, named George Bur- 
roughs, was among the accused. In the months of 
August and September, 1692, he and nineteen other 
innocent men and women were put to death. The 




i% 



«« 









M (U 



■^^^ 






in 



THE SALEM WITCHES. 11 

place of execution was a high hill, on the outskirts of 
Salem ; so that many of the sufferers, as they stood 
l)eneath the gallows, could discern their own habita- 
tions in the town. 

The martyrdom of these guiltless persons seemed 
only to increase the madness. The afflicted now grew 
bolder in their accusations. Many people of rank and 
wealth were either thrown into prison or compelled to 
flee for their lives. Among these were two sons of old 
Simon Bradstreet, the last of the Puritan governors. 
Mr. Willard, a pious minister of Boston, was cried out 
upon as a wizard in open court. Mrs. Hale, the wife 
of the minister of Beverly, was likewise accused. 
Philip English, a rich merchant of Salem, found it 
necessary to take flight, leaving his property and busi- 
ness in confusion. But a short time afterwards, the 
Salem people were glad to invite him back. 

" The boldest thing that the accusers did," contin- 
ued Grandfather, " was to cry out against the govern- 
or's own beloved wife. Yes, the lady of Sir William 
Phips was accused of being a witch and of flying 
through the air to attend witch-meetings. When the 
governor heard this he probably trembled, so that our 
gi-eat chair shook beneath him." 

"Dear Grandfather," cried little Alice, clinging 
closer to his knee, " is it true that witches ever come 
in the night-time to frighten little children?" 

"No, no, dear little Alice," replied Grandfather. 
" Even if there were any witches, they would flee away 
from the presence of a pure-hearted child. But there 
are none ; and our forefathers soon became convinced 
that they had been led into a terrible delusion. All 
the prisoners on account of witchcraft were set free. 
But the innocent dead could not be restored to life ; 



78 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

and the hill where they were executed will always re- 
mind people of the saddest and most humiliating j^as- 
sage in our history." ^ 

Grandfather then said that the next remarkable 
event, while Sir William Phips remained in the 
chair, was the arrival at Boston of an English fleet 
in 1693. It brought an army which was intended for 
the conquest of Canada. But a malignant disease, 
more fatal than the small-pox, broke out among the 
soldiers and sailors, and destroyed the greater part of 
them. The infection sj^read into the town of Boston, 
and made much havoc there. This dreadful sickness 
caused the governor and Sir Francis Wheeler, who 
was commander of the British forces, to give up all 
thoughts of attacking Canada. 

" Soon after this," said Grandfather, " Sir William 
Phips quarrelled with the captain of an English 
frigate, and also with the collector of Boston. Being 
a man of violent temper, he gave each of them a sound 
beating with his cane." 

" He was a bold fellow," observed Charle}^ who was 
himself somewhat addicted to a similar mode of set- 
tling disputes. 

" More bold than wise," replied Grandfather ; '' for 
complaints were carried to the king, and Sir William 
Phips was summoned to England to make the best 
answer he could. Accordingly he went to London, 
where, in 1695, he was seized with a malignant fever, 
of which he died. Had he lived longer, he would 
probably have gone again in search of sunken treas- 
ure. He had heard of a Spanish ship, which was cast 

^ Longfellow's tragedy Giles Corey of the Salem Farms has to 
do with the witchcraft delusion, and so has Hawthorne's tale of 
Youny Goodman Brown. 



THE SALEM WITCHES. 79 

away in 1502, during the lifetime of Columbus. Bo- 
vadilla, Koldan, and many other Spaniards were lost 
in her, together with the immense wealth of which 
they had robbed the South American kings." 

" Why, Grandfather! " exclaimed Laurence, "what 
magnificent ideas the governor had ! Only think of 
recovering all that old treasure which had lain almost 
two centuries under the sea ! Methinks Sir William 
PhijJs ought to have been buried in the ocean when 
he died, so that he might have gone down among the 
sunken ships and cargoes of treasure which he was al- 
ways dreaming about in his lifetime." 

" He was buried in one of the crowded cemeteries of 
London," said Grandfather. " As he left no children, 
his estate was inherited by his nephew, from whom is 
descended the present Marquis of Normandy. The 
noble Marquis is not aware, perhaps, that the pros- 
perity of his family originated in the successful enter- 
prise of a New England ship-carpenter." 



(;iiAi"H'j( III. 

iin, oi.i) I'AHHiONi,/) Hriiooi,. 

'' A'l llic (Ic'ilJi «»r Sir VVilli;iiii IMiipH," \n<u'iu'Aiu[ 
(ii;ui<ll;i.lli«'r, '' <*iir rliulf vvmk lj<«jim;i,l,li<',(| l,o Mr. !')/<•- 
Kiel ( Ili<'<'V<;r, a I'jtJiioiiH M<'lioolm;iMf,<;»' ill HohI-oii. 'I'lii i 
old gt^ntJcjiinti <;:tJiM' i'loni liondoii in hi)'7, :iii<l li.ul 
IxMiii l-<'{w;liin^ hc.IuhA «v<-r rtiiici', ; km (,Ii;iI, lltcn- vv<'r<5 
now ;i,^(t<l ni<;n, gr;i,n(ir.'i(,li<*rM lilo*, iny;<<di", l,o vvlioni 
M.'inh;!- ( !li<M'.v<'r li;t(l l-;iiij.';lil, f,li<-ii- ;i,Ipli.'i,l><tl,. We w.iH 
u. jMMMon of v<tn(tr;i,hl(', ;i,m )>«•«• I,, ;i,n<| wore, ;i, lon^; w\nU; 

** WaH I.Ik; clL-ur j,l;u'.<:(| in lii ', :;r|,o<,l > " :.;il<<-<| ( '|,;,r 

'' V<'H, ill liii< hcIjooI,' ;innw<tr<Mi (ii;iii<iral,ln;r ; ''and 
w<; iiiM-y H',iU:\y H:iy Ui;i,l, il, li;id lU'Vuv lMd'oi<! IxM'fi /'<•- 
/yarded wiUi Hij(di Jiwl'nl r<;v<'r<;n<trf, no, nol, <tv<:n wln-n 
(Ik; old i/<>vitni<n'H of M;i,HH;i(dii<M<tU,H Hid in it. IOv<!n 
you, ( !|i;i,rl<'y, my hoy, wonid lin V(i f<dt Honnt tt'H\HU',i 
for l\it: «tli;jir if yon li;i,d hci-ii il, o(;(Mjjii<'d liy tliln i'nr 
nioiiH H<dioolnniHl-<-r. " 

And Ik'I'*' j.n'.'indf;i.l,li<;r ciKli'avor'Ml Ut ;^iv<', liiM ;tii- 
dil.ora :t.u id<',.'i, liow ni;dl,<;rH wuH', inana^'itd in Htdiooln 
al>ov<5 a linn<li'<!d yJtniH Ji^o. Ah lliin will prohaldy Im5 
an intitn^Hiin^ Hnhji'c.l/ f,o our r<';i.d<trM, w*- idiiill ni;d<<; ;i- 
M<^|)aral,<i Hl(<;t<;li of it, ,'ind <;ill il, 'IIk- Old I'aMliioniMl 
S<diool. 

Now, iin;i|^in<; yonriud v<;a, my cliildrcn, in M.'iHl,<;r 
Kz<du<d ('lnt<tvcr'H Hcliool-njoin. It in a larg<s din^y 



iiih: oi.h i\siii()Ni:h s<'II(ku.. HI 

room, with a H;in<l<«l llooi*, and j'h lif'jih*! I>y v/i)Mlow;< 
(li.'it liini on liin^';^ :iii(l li:iV<t liMlf di.iMiottd ;di;i|MMl 
p;in<;H of j^Ijihm. TIk^ Midiolars^ hII- on lon;.^ h<;nr,lM)H, 
wiUi i|<!mI(h \ii',Um\ iUiWu. Al, ono <n<l oi iJu) room Im 
a \i^iHt',il lir<'p);MH}, ho v<^ry H)»;t<;ionM fli.il, llj<'ro ih room 
<:noiigli for \\ni'M or fonr hoyH to ntind in I'.'utli of iJni 
<;lnnin(iy <joi'mtrM. Thin wan tin*/ ^ood old laMliion of 
\\ri.\)\:iA:i'.H wli<;n Ui<;nt wan wood <;nonji;^li in \.\\o. fori'HU 
to 1<<'<'|> jx'opjii w.'trni wil.lioul lJi<rir <li/^/M»if^ inM> lJii< 
l>ow<dH of i\\it i'Mi\\\ ^ni 'o.'d. 

It in a wi/it<;i''H day wln-n w<^ t;ilt«: «>in j)<<j) nilo 1J115 
v<rliool-roo»n. S<t<} what ^n'at lo^f^ of wood Ijav**, \h'MI\ 
iolJ<:rl i»ji.o i\\it \\vi'.\)\iU'A% and wliat a ln'o;wl, hri^lii 
f*l;iy,<-, ;4o<;h jis'tpin/^^ \\\i i\\i', <'liinin<',y ! And <w<a'y f<?w 
oioniftntH a vawt (Joud of Hnioli<; i;^ pijff<^d wiU* tint 
zoom, wliicli Hail« «lowly ov<ii' tli<'- In^'nlw of tint wdiol- 
;<!'«, until it ^nulually K<tttl<t« npo/i th<^ wall« and ';<'il 
jn;:;^. i l"'y ai'<} l)l;i/;l<<'n<id witii tli'i «niol(<i <d m-iny 
y<iarH aln^;i/Jy. 

N<txt look at our old iji«f/>ri'! <;liair! It i« pla«t«Ml, 
you j)<;nt<'j'v<^, in tlnMnoht''.on»fortal>l<'- part of tint room, 
'N\n'.yii i\iit ^<in<jron« p^low of tint lint '\h «nfli<;i<tntly f<dt 
witliont fxjinj^ t/>o inf^'nw<dy liot. How «taf/<dy tint old 
'•}/air look «, an if it ntm<jnjl><'r<td ii« /nany famouH o<}/;n^ 
pantH, Imt y<tt wen? (unw'umH that a fi^rtitiUiV man j« 
tittinji;: i'< it now I I)o you mut tint v<tn<tra(d<t H/thool- 
iii'.iMAii', Hitvai'ti in a«p<t'tt, with a f>hi/d< «kulh'a|> 0/1 hi« 
\n'.'.u\^ liki; an an'ti'tnt I'liritan, and tint nnow of hix 
v/\i]U'. Ixtard drifti/ip^ dow/i f/> hi:< vojj ^^'iiuiU'/f What 
hoy would dan? Ut j>)ay, or whi^jxtr, or <tv<t/< glamt4t 
a^idc from hin hook, whih; Mawt^ti' (/lnt<tv<tr i« on tint 
lookorjt Ixdiind \tiH Mj><t'tt;i/d<t« ? For wn/di off<md<trM, 
if any j-jjrtli th<;r<t (><t, a rod of hinth in lnin;/inj( ov<tr 
tint lir<t|)la/t<t, ;i/id a Intavy f<t/iiht li<::j o/j th*- intmUit'^H 



82 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

And now school is begun. What a murmur of mul- 
titudinous tongues, like the whispering leaves of a 
wind-stirred oak, as the scholars con over their various 
tasks! Buzz! buzz! buzz! Amid just such a mur- 
mur has Master Cheever spent above sixty years ; and 
long habit has made it as pleasant to him as the hum 
of a beehive when the insects are busy in the sunshine. 

Now a class in Latin is called to recite. Forth steps 
a row of queer-looking little fellows, wearing square- 
skirted coats and small-clothes, with buttons at the 
knee. They look like so many grandfathers in their 
second childhood. These lads are to be sent to Cam- 
bridge and educated for the learned professions. Old 
Master Cheever had lived so long, and seen so many 
generations of school-boys grow up to be men, that 
now he can almost prophesy what sort of a man each 
boy will be. One urchin shall hereafter be a doctor, 
and administer pills and potions, and stalk gravely 
through life, perfumed with assafoetida. Another 
shall wrangle at the bar, and fight his way to wealth 
and honors, and, in his declining age, shall be a wor- 
shipful member of his Majesty's council. A third — 
and he is the master's favorite — shall be a worthy 
successor to the old Puritan ministers now in their 
graves ; he shall preach with great unction and effect, 
and leave volumes of sermons, in print and manuscript, 
for tliiJ benefit of future generations. 

But, as they are merely school-boys now, their busi- 
ness is to construe Virgil. Poor Virgil ! whose verses, 
which he took so much pains to polish, have been 
misscanned, and misparsed, and misinterpreted by so 
many generations of idle school-boys. There, sit 
down, ye Latinists. Two or three of you, I fear, are 
doomed to feel the master's ferule. 



THE OLD-FASHIONED SCHOOL. 83 

Next comes a class in arithmetic. These boys are 
to be the merchants, shopkeepers, and mechanics of 
a fnture period. Hitherto they have traded only in 
marbles and apples. Hereafter some will send vessels 
to England for broadcloths and all sorts of manufac- 
tured wares, and to the West Indies for sugar, and 
rum, and coffee. Others will stand behind counters, 
and measure tape, and ribbon, and cambric by the 
yard. Others will upheave the blacksmith's hammer, 
or drive the plane over the carpenter's bench, or take 
the lapstone and the awl and learn the trade of shoe- 
making. Many will follow the sea, and become bold, 
rough sea-captains. 

This class of boys, in short, must supply the world 
with those active, skilful hands, and clear, sagacious 
heads, without which the affairs of life would be 
thrown into confusion by the theories of studious and 
visionary men. Wherefore, teach them their multi- 
plication-table, good Master Cheever, and whip them 
well when they deserve it ; for much of the country's 
welfare depends on these boys. 

But, alas ! while we have been thinking of other 
matters. Master Cheever's watchful eye has caught 
two boys at play. Now we shall see awful times. The 
two malefactors are summoned before the master's 
chair, wherein he sits with the terror of a judge upon 
his brow. Our old chair is now a judgment-seat. Ah, 
Master Cheever has taken down that terrible birch 
rod ! Short is the trial, — the sentence quickly passed, 
— and now the judge prepares to execute it in person. 
Thwack ! thwaclv I thwack ! In these good old times, 
a schoolmaster's blows were well laid on. 

See, the birch rod has lost several of its twigs, and 
will hardly serve for anotlier execution. Mercy on 



84 GRANDFATHERS CHAIR. 

us, what a bellowing the urchins make ! My ears are 
almost deafened, though the clamor comes through the 
far length of a hundred and fifty years. There, go to 
your seats, poor boys ; and do not cry, sweet little 
Alice, for they have ceased to feel the pain a long 
time since. 

And thus the forenoon passes away. Now it is 
twelve o'clock. The master looks at his great silver 
watch, and then, with tiresome deliberation, puts the 
ferule into his desk. The little multitude await the 
word of dismissal with almost irrepressible impa- 
tience. 

" You are dismissed," says Master Cheever. 

The boys retire, treading softly until they have 
passed the threshold ; but, fairly out of the school- 
room, lo, what a joyous shout ! what a scampering and 
trampling of feet ! what a sense of recovered freedom 
expressed in the merry uproar of all their voices ! 
What care they for the ferule and birch rod now? 
Were boys created merely to study Latin and arith- 
metic ? No ; the better purposes of their being are to 
sport, to leap, to run, to shout, to slide upon the ice, 
to snowball. 

Happy boys ! Enjoy your playtime now, and come 
again to study and to feel the birch rod and the ferule 
to-morrow ; not till to-morrow ; for to-day is Thursday 
lecture ; and, ever since the settlement of Massachu- 
setts, there has been no school on Thursday after- 
noons. Therefore sport, boys, while you may, for the 
morrow cometh, with the birch rod and the ferule ; 
and after that another morrow, with troubles of its 
own. 

Now the master has set everything to rights, and is 
ready to go home to dinner. Yet he goes reluctantly. 



THE OLD-FASHIONED SCHOOL. 85 

The old man has spent so much of his life in the 
smoky, noisy, buzzing school-room, that, when he has 
a holiday, he feels as if his place were lost and him- 
self a stranger in the world. But forth he goes ; and 
there stands our old chair, vacant and solitary, till 
good Master Cheever resumes his seat in it to-morrow 
morning. 

" Grandfather," said Charley, " I wonder whether 
the boys did not use to upset the old chair when the 
schoolmaster was out." 

''There is a tradition," replied Grandfather, "that 
one of its arms was dislocated in some such manner. 
But I cannot believe that any school-boy would behave 
so naughtily." 

As it was now later than little Alice's usual bed- 
time, Grandfather broke off his narrative, promising 
to talk more about Master Cheever and his scholars 
some other evening. 



1 



CHAPTEH IV. 

COTTON MATHER. 

Accordingly, the next evening, Grandfather re- 
sumed the history of his beloved chair. 

" Master Ezekiel Cheever," said he, " died in 1707, 
after having taught school about seventy years. It 
would require a pretty good scholar in arithmetic to 
tell how many stripes he had inflicted, and how many 
birch rods he had worn out, during all that time, in 
his fatherly tenderness for his' pupils. Almost all the 
great men of that period, and for many years back, 
had been whipped into eminence by Master Cheever. 
Moreover, he had written a Latin Accidence, which 
was used in schools more than half a century after his 
death ; so that the good old man, even in his grave, 
was still the cause of trouble and stripes to idle school- 
boys." 

Grandfather proceeded to say, that, when Master 
Cheever died, he bequeathed the chair to the most 
learned man that was educated at his school, or that 
had ever been born in America. This was the re- 
nowned Cotton Mather, minister of the Old North 
Church in Boston. 

" And author of the Magnalia,^ Grandfather, which 
we sometimes see you reading," said Laurence. 

^ Whittier's poem, The Garrison of Cape Afiti, is a story out of 
Mather's Magnalia. The full title of Mather's book was Mag- 
nalia Christi Americana, that is, the Mighty Deeds of Christ in 
America. 



COTTON MATHER. 87 

*' Yes, Laurence," replied Grandfather. " The Mag- 
nalia is a strange, pedantic history, in which true 
events and real personages move before the reader 
with the dreamy aspect which they wore in Cotton 
Mather's singular mind. This huge volume, however, 
was written and published before our chair came into 
his possession. But, as he was the author of more 
books than there are days in the year, we may con- 
clude that he wrote a great deal while sitting in this 
chair." 

" I am tired of these schoolmasters and learned 
men," said Charley. " I wish some stirring man, that 
knew how to do something in the world, like Sir 
William Phips, would sit in the chair." 

" Such men seldom have leisure to sit quietly in a 
chair," said Grandfather. " We must make the best 
of such people as we have." 

As Cotton Mather was a very distinguished man, 
Grandfather took some pains to give the children a 
lively conception of his character. Over the door of 
his library were painted these words, be short, — as 
a warning to visitors that they must not do the world 
so much harm as needlessly to interrupt this great 
man's wonderful labors. On entering the room you 
would probably behold it crowded, and piled, and 
heaped with books. There were huge, ponderous 
folios, and quartos, and little duodecimos, in English, 
Latin, Greek, Hebrew, Chaldaic, and all other lan- 
guages that either originated at the confusion of Babel 
or have since come into use. 

All these books, no doubt, were tossed about in con- 
fusion, thus forming a visible emblem of the manner 
in which their contents were crowded into Cotton 
Mather's brain. And in the middle of the room stood 



88 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

a table, on which, besides printed volumes, were 
strewn manuscript sermons, historical tracts, and po- 
litical pamphlets, all written in such a queer, blind, 
crabbed, fantastical hand, that a writing-master would 
have gone raving mad at the sight of them. By this 
table stood Grandfather's chair, which seemed to have 
contracted an air of deep erudition, as if its cushion 
were stuffed with Latin, Greek, and Hebrew, and 
other hard matters. 

In this chair, from one year's end to another, sat 
that prodigious bookworm, Cotton Mather, sometimes 
devouring a great book, and sometimes scribbling one 
as big. In Grandfather's younger days there used 
to be a wax figure of him in one of the Boston mu- 
seums, representing a solemn, dark-visaged person, 
in a minister's black gown, and with a black-letter 
volume before him. 

" It is difficult, my children," observed Grandfather, 
" to make you understand such a character as Cotton 
Mather's, in whom there was so much good, and yet 
so many failings and frailties. Undoubtedly he was a 
pious man. Often he kept fasts ; and once, for three 
whole days, he allowed himself not a morsel of food, 
but spent the time in prayer and religious meditation. 
Many a live-long night did he watch and pray. These 
fasts and vigils made him meagre and haggard, and 
probably caused him to appear as if he hardly be- 
longed to the world." 

" Was not the witchcraft delusion partly caused by 
Cotton Mather ? " inquired Laurence. 

" He was the chief agent of the mischief," answered 
Grandfather ; " but we will not suppose that he acted 
otherwise than conscientiously. He believed that 
there were evil spirits all about the world. Doubtless 



COTTON MATHER. 89 

he imagined that they were hidden in the corners and 
crevices of his library, and that they peeped out from 
among the leaves of many of his books, as he turned 
them over, at midnight. He supposed that these un- 
lovely demons were everywhere, in the sunshine as 
well as in the darkness, and that they were hidden 
in men's hearts, and stole into their most secret 
thoughts." 

Here Grandfather was interrupted by little Alice, 
who hid her face in his lap, and murmured a wish that 
he would not talk any more about Cotton Mather and 
the evil spirits. Grandfather kissed her, and told 
her that angels were the only spirits whom she had 
anything to do with. He then spoke of the public 
affairs of the period. 

A new war between France and England had broken 
out in 1702, and had been raging ever since. In the 
course of it. New England suffered much injury from 
the French and Indians, who often came through the 
woods from Canada and assaulted the frontier towns. 
Villages were sometimes burned, and the inhabitants 
slaughtered, within a day's ride of Boston.^ The peo- 
ple of New England had a bitter hatred against the 
French, not only for the mischief which they did with 
their own hands, but because they incited the Indians 
to hostility. 

The New-Englanders knew that they could never 
dwell in security until the provinces of France should 
be subdued and brought under the English govern- 
ment. They frequently, in time of war, undertook 
military expeditions against Acadia and Canada, and 
sometimes besieged the fortresses by which those ter- 
ritories were defended. But the most earnest wish of 
^ See Whittier's poem Pentucket. 



90 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

their hearts was to take Quebec, and so get posses- 
sion of the whole province of Canada. Sir William 
Phips had once attempted it, but without success. 

Fleets and soldiers were often sent from England to 
assist the colonists in their warlike undertakinp's. In 
1710 Port Royal, a fortress of Acadia, was taken by 
the English. The next year, in the month of June, a 
fleet, commanded by Admiral Sir Hovenden Walker, 
arrived in Boston Harbor. On board of this fleet was 
the English General Hill, with seven regiments of 
soldiers, who had been fighting under the Duke of 
Marlborough in Flanders. The government of Mas- 
sachusetts was called upon to find provisions for the 
army and fleet, and to raise more men to assist in 
taking Canada. 

What with recruiting and drilling of soldiers, there 
was now nothing but warlike bustle in the streets of 
Boston. The drum and fife, the rattle of arms, and 
the shouts of boys were heard from morning till night. 
In about a month the fleet set sail, carrying four regi- 
ments from New England and New York, besides the 
English soldiers. The whole army amounted to at 
least seven thousand men. They steered for the 
mouth of the river St. Lawrence. 

" Cotton Mather prayed most fervently for their 
success," continued Grandfather, " both in his pulpit 
and when he kneeled down in the solitude of his 
library, resting his face on our old chair. But Provi- 
dence ordered the result otherwise. In a few weeks 
tidings were received that eight or nine of the vessels 
had been wrecked in the St. Lawrence, and that above 
a thousand drowned soldiers had been washed ashore 
on the banks of that mighty river. After this mis- 
fortune Sir Hovenden Walker set sail for England ; 



1 



COTTON MATHER. 91 

and many pious people began to think it a sin even to 
wish for the conquest of Canada." 

" I would never give it up so," cried Charley. 

"Nor did they, as we shall see," replied Grand- 
father. " However, no more attempts were made 
during this war, which came to a close in 1713. The 
people of New England were probably glad of some 
repose ; for their young men had been made soldiers, 
till many of them were fit for nothing else. And those 
who remained at home had been heavily taxed to pay 
for the arms, ammunition, fortifications, and all the 
other endless expenses of a war. There was great need 
of the prayers of Cotton Mather and of all pious men, 
not only on account of the sufferings of the people, 
but because the old moral and religious character of 
New England was in danger of being utterly lost." 

"How glorious it would have been," remarked Lau- 
rence, " if our forefathers could have kept the country 
unspotted with blood ! " 

" Yes," said Grandfather ; " but there was a stern, 
warlike spirit in them from the beginning. They 
seem never to have thought of questioning either the 
morality or piety of war." 

The next event which Grandfather spoke of was 
one that Cotton Mather, as well as most of the other 
inhabitants of New England, heartily rejoiced at. 
This was the accession of the Elector of Hanover to 
the throne of England, in 1714, on the death of Queen 
Anne. Hitherto the people had been in continual 
dread that the male line of the Stuarts, who were de- 
scended from the beheaded King Charles and the ban- 
ished King James, would be restored to the throne. 

"The importance of this event," observed Grand- 
father, " was a thousand times greater than that of a 



92 



GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 



Presidential election in our own days. If the people 
dislike their President, they may get rid of him in 
four years ; whereas a dynasty of kings may Avear the 
crown for an unlimited period." 

The German elector was proclaimed king from the 
balcony of the town-house in Boston, by the title of 
George I. ; while the trumpets sounded and the people 
cried amen. That night the town was illuminated ; 
and Cotton Mather threw aside book and pen, and 
left Grandfather's chair vacant, while he walked hither 
and thither to witness the rejoicings. 



CHAPTER V. 

THE REJECTED BLESSING. 

" Cotton Mather," contiiuied Grandfather, " was 
a bitter enemy to Governor Dudley; and nobody 
exulted more than he when that crafty politician 
was removed from the government, and succeeded 
by Colonel Shute.^ This took place in 1716. The 
new governor had been an officer in the renowned 
Duke of Marlborough's army, and had fought in some 
of the great battles in Flanders." 

" Now I hope," said Charley, " we shall hear of his 
doing great things." 

*' I am afraid you will be disappointed, Charley," 
answered Grandfather. "It is true that Colonel 
Shute had probably never led so unquiet a life while 
fighting the French as he did now, while governing 
this province of Massachusetts Bay. But his troubles 
consisted almost entirely of dissensions with the Legis- 
lature. The king had ordered him to lay claim to a 
fixed salary ; but the representatives of the people in- 
sisted upon paying him only such sums from year to 
year as they saw fit." 

Grandfather here explained some of the circum- 
stances that made the situation of a colonial governor 
so difficult and irksome. There was not the same 
feeling towards the chief magistrate now that had ex- 

^ Hawthorne connects his story of Lady Eleanore's Mantle 
with Governor Shute. 



94 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

isted while he was chosen by the free suffrages of the 
people. It was felt that as the king appointed the 
governor, and as he held his office during the king's 
pleasure, it would be his great object to please the 
king. But the people thought that a governor ought 
to have nothing in view but the best interests of those 
whom he governed. 

" The governor," remarked Grandfather, " had two 
masters to serve, — the king, who appointed him ; and 
the people, on whom he depended for his pay. Few 
men in this position would have ingenuity enough to 
satisfy either party. Colonel Shute, though a good- 
natured, well-meaning man, succeeded so ill with the 
people, that, in 1722, he suddenly went away to Eng- 
land and made complaint to King George. In the 
meantime Lieutenant-Governor Dummer directed the 
affairs of the province, and carried on a long and 
bloody war with the Indians." 

" But where was our chair all this time ? " asked 
Clara. 

" It still remained in Cotton Mather's library," re- 
plied Grandfather ; " and I must not omit to tell you 
an incident which is very much to the honor of this 
celebrated man. It is the more proper, too, that you 
should hear it, because it will show you what a terrible 
calamity the small-pox was to our forefathers. The 
history of the province (and, of course, the history 
of our chair) would be incomplete without particular 
mention of it." 

Accordingly Grandfather told the children a story, 
to which, for want of a better title, we shall give that 
of The Rejected Blessing. 

One day, in 1721, Doctor Cotton Mather sat in his 
library reading a book that had been published by the 



THE REJECTED BLESSING. 95 

Royal Society of London. But every few moments 
lie laid the book upon the table, and leaned back in 
Grandfather's chair with an aspect of deep care and 
disquietude. There were certain things which trou- 
bled him exceedingly, so that he could hardly fix his 
thoughts upon what he read. 

It was now a gloomy time in Boston. That terrible 
disease, the small-pox, had recently made its appear- 
ance in the town. Ever since the first settlement of 
the country this awful pestilence had come at inter- 
vals, and swept away multitudes of the inhabitants. 
Whenever it commenced its ravages, nothing seemed 
to stay its progress until there were no more victims 
for it to seize upon. Oftentimes hundreds of people 
at once lay groaning with its agony ; and when it de- 
parted, its deep footsteps were always to be traced in 
many graves. 

The people never felt secure from this calamity. 
Sometimes, perhaps, it was brought into the country 
by a poor sailor, who had caught the infection in for- 
eign parts, and came hither to die and to be the cause 
of many deaths. Sometimes, no doubt, it followed in 
the train of the pompous governors when they came 
over from England. Sometimes the disease lay hid- 
den in the cargoes of ships, among silks, and brocades, 
and other costly merchandise which was imported for 
the rich people to wear. And sometimes it started up 
seemingly of its own accord, and nobody could tell 
whence it came. The physician, being called to attend 
the sick person, would look at him, and say, " It is 
the small-pox! Let the patient be carried to the 
hospital." 

And now this dreadful sickness had shown itself 
again in Boston. Cotton Mather was greatly afflicted 



96 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

for the sake of the whole province. He had children, 
too, who were exposed to the danger. At that very- 
moment he heard the voice of his youngest son, for 
whom his heart was moved with apprehension. 

" Alas ! I fear for that poor child," said Cotton 
Mather to himself. " What shall I do for my son 
Samuel? " 

Again he attempted to drive away these thoughts 
by taking up the book which he had been reading. 
And now, all of a sudden, his attention became fixed. 
The book contained a printed letter that an Italian 
physician had written upon the very subject about 
which Cotton Mather was so anxiously meditating. 
He ran his eye eagerly over the pages ; and, behold ! 
a method was disclosed to him by which the small-pox 
might be robbed of its worst terrors. Such a method 
was known in Greece. The physicians of Turkey, too, 
those long-bearded Eastern sages, had been acquainted 
with it for many years. The negroes of Africa, igno- 
rant as they were, had likewise practised it, and thus 
had shown themselves wiser than the white men. 

"Of a truth," ejaculated Cotton Mather, clasping 
his hands and looking up to heaven, "it was a merci- 
ful Providence that brought this book under mine 
eye. I will procure a consultation of physicians, and 
see whether this wondrous inoculation may not stay 
the progress of the destroyer." 

So he arose from Grandfather's chair and went out 
of the library. Near the door he met his son Samuel, 
who seemed downcast and out of spirits. The boy 
had heard, probably, that some of his playmates were 
taken ill with the small-pox. But, as his father looked 
cheerfully at him, Samuel took courage, trusting that 
either the wisdom of so learned a minister would find 



THE REJECTED BLESSING. 97 

some remedy for the danger, or else that his prayers 
would secure protection from on high. 

Meanwhile Cotton Mather took his staff and three- 
cornered hat and walked about the streets, calling at 
the houses of all the physicians in Boston. They were 
a very wise fraternity ; and their huge wigs, and black 
dresses, and solemn visages made their wisdom appear 
even profounder than it was. One after another he 
acquainted them with the discovery which he had hit 
upon. 

But the grave and sagacious personages would 
scarcely listen to him. The oldest doctor in town 
contented himself with remarking that no such thing 
as inoculation was mentioned by Galen or Hippocrates ; 
and it was impossible that modern physicians should 
be wiser than those old sages. A second held up his 
hands in dumb astonishment and horror at the mad- 
ness of what Cotton Mather proposed to do. A third 
told him, in pretty plain terms, that he knew not what 
he was talking about. A fourth requested, in the 
name of the whole medical fraternity, that Cotton 
Mather would confine his attention to people's souls, 
and leave the physicians to take care of their bodies. 

In short, there was but a single doctor among them 
all who would grant the poor minister so much as a 
patient hearing. This was Doctor Zabdiel Boylston. 
He looked into the matter like a man of sense, and 
finding, beyond a doubt, that inoculation had rescued 
many from death, he resolved to try the experiment in 
his own family. 

And so he did. But when the other physicians 
heard of it they arose in great fury and began a war 
of words, written, printed, and spoken, against Cotton 
Mather and Doctor Boylston. To hear them talk, you 



98 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

would have supposed that these two harmless and be- 
nevolent men had plotted the ruin of the country. 

The people, also, took the alarm. Many, who 
thought themselves more pious than their neighbors, 
contended that, if Providence had ordained them to 
die of the small-pox, it was sinful to aim at preventing 
it. The strangest reports were in circulation. Some 
said that Doctor Boylston had contrived a method for 
conveying the gout, rheumatism, sick-headache, asthma, 
and all other diseases from one person to another, and 
diffusing them through the whole community. Others 
flatly affirmed that the evil one had got possession of 
Cotton Mather, and was at the bottom of the whole 
business. 

You must observe, children, that Cotton Mather's 
fellow-citizens were generally inclined to doubt the 
wisdom of any measure which he might propose to 
them. They recollected how he had led them astray 
in the old witchcraft delusion ; and now, if he thought 
and acted ever so wisely, it was difficult for him to get 
the credit of it. 

The people's wrath grew so hot at his attempt to 
guard them from the small-pox that he could not walk 
the streets in peace. Whenever the venerable form 
of the old minister, meagre and haggard with fasts 
and vigils, was seen approaching, hisses were heard, 
and shouts of derision, and scornful and bitter laugh- 
ter. The women snatched away their children from 
his path, lest he should do them a mischief. Still, 
however, bending his head meekly, and perhaps stretch- 
ing out his hands to bless those who reviled him, he 
pursued his way. But the tears came into his eyes 
to think how blindly the people rejected the means of 
safety that were offered them. 



THE REJECTED BLESSING. 99 

Indeed, there were melancholy sights enough in the 
streets of Boston to draw forth the tears of a compas- 
sionate man. Over the door of almost every dwelling 
a red flag was fluttering in the air. This was the sig- 
nal that the small-pox had entered the house and at- 
tacked some member of the family ; or perhaps the 
whole family, old and young, were struggling at once 
with the pestilence. Friends and relatives, when they 
met one another in the streets, would hurry onward 
without a grasp of the hand or scarcely a word of 
greeting, lest they should catch or communicate the 
contagion ; and often a coiitin was borne hastily 
along. 

" Alas ! alas ! " said Cotton Mather to himself, 
" what shall be done for this poor, misguided people ? 
Oh that Providence would open their eyes, and enable 
them to discern good from evil ! " 

So furious, however, were the people, that they 
threatened vengeance against any person who should 
dare to practise inoculation, though it were only in his 
own family. This was a hard case for Cotton Mather, 
who saw no other way to rescue his poor child Samuel 
from the disease. But he resolved to save him, even 
if his house should be burned over his head. 

" I will not be turned aside," said he. " My towns- 
men shall see that I have faith in this thing, when I 
make the experiment on my beloved son, whose life is 
dearer to me than my own. And when I have saved 
Samuel, peradventure they will be persuaded to save 
themselves." 

Accordingly Samuel was inoculated ; and so was 
Mr. Walter, a son-in-law of Cotton Mather. Doctor 
Boylston, likewise, inoculated many persons ; and while 
hundreds died who had caught the contagion from 



100 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

the garments of the sick, almost all were preserved 
who followed the wise physici^'s advice. 

But the people were not yet convinced of their mis- 
take. One night a destructive little instrument, called 
a hand-grenade, was thrown into Cotton Mather's win- 
dow, and rolled under Grandfather's chair. It was 
supposed to be filled with gunpowder, the explosion 
of which would have blown the poor minister to atoms. 
But the best informed historians are of opinion that 
the grenade contained only brimstone and assafoetida, 
and was meant to plague Cotton Mather with a very 
evil perfume. 

This is no strange thing in human experience. Men 
who attempt to do the world more good than the world 
is able entirely to comprehend are almost invariably 
held in bad odor. But yet, if the wise and good man 
can wait awhile, either the present generation or pos- 
terity will do him justice. So it proved in the case 
which we have been speaking of. In after years, when 
inoculation was imiversally practised, and thousands 
were saved from death by it, the j)eople remembered 
old Cotton Mather, then sleejDing in his grave. They 
acknowledged that the very thing for which they had 
so reviled and persecuted him was the best and wisest 
thing he ever did. 

" Grandfather, this is not an agreeable story," ob- 
served Clara. 

" No, Clara," replied Grandfather. " But it is right 
that you should know what a dark shadow this disease 
threw over the times of our forefathers. And now, if 
you wish to learn more about Cotton Mather, you must 
read his biography, written by Mr. Peabody, of Spring- 
field. You will find it very entertaining and instruc- 



THE REJECTED BLESSING. 101 

tive ; but perhaps the writer is somewhat too harsh in 
his judgment of this singular man. He estimates him 
fairly, indeed, and understands him well ; but he un- 
riddles his character rather by acuteness than by sym- 
pathy. Now, his life should have been written by 
one who, knowing all his faults, would nevertheless 
love him." 

So Grandfather made an end of Cotton Mather, tell- 
ing his auditors that he died in 1728, at the age of 
sixty-live, and bequeathed the chair to Elisha Cooke. 
This gentleman was a famous advocate of the people's 
rights. 

The same year William Burnet, a son of the cele- 
brated Bishop Burnet, arrived in Boston with the com- 
mission of governor. He was the first that had been 
appointed since the departure of Colonel Shute. Gov- 
ernor Burnet took up his residence with Mr. Cooke 
while the Province House was undergoing repairs. 
During this period he was always complimented with 
a seat in Grandfather's chair ; and so comfortable did 
he find it, that, on removing to the Province House, he 
could not bear to leave it behind him. Mr. Cooke, 
therefore, requested his acceptance of it. 

" I should think," said Laurence, " that the people 
would have petitioned the king always to appoint a 
native-born New-Englander to govern them." 

" Undoubtedly it was a grievance," answered Grand- 
father, " to see men placed in this station who perhaps 
had neither talents nor virtues to fit them for it, and 
who certainly could have no natural affection for the 
country. The king generally bestowed the governor- 
ships of the American colonies upon needy noblemen, 
or hangers-on at court, or disbanded officers. The 
people knew that such persons would be very likely to 



102 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

make the good of the country subservient to the wishes 
of the king. The Legislature, therefore, endeavored 
to keep as much power as possible in their own hands, 
by refusing to settle a fixed salary upon the governors. 
It was thought better to pay them according to their 
deserts." 

"Did Governor Burnet work well for his money?" 
asked Charley. 

Grandfather could not help smiling at the simplicity 
of Charley's question. Nevertheless, it put the matter 
in a very plain point of view. 

He then described the character of Governor Bur- 
net, representing him as a good scholar, possessed of 
much ability, and likewise of unspotted integrity. His 
story affords a striking example how unfortunate it 
is for a man, who is placed as ruler over a country, 
to be compelled to aim at anything but the good of 
the people. Governor Burnet was so chained down by 
his instructions from the king that he could not act 
as he might otherwise have wished. Consequently, his 
whole term of office was wasted in quarrels with the 
Legislature. 

" I am afraid, children," said Grandfather, " that 
Governor Burnet found but little rest or comfort in 
our old chair. Here he used to sit, dressed in a coat 
which was made of rough, shaggy cloth outside, but 
of smooth velvet within. It was said that his own 
character resembled that coat ; for his outward man- 
ner was rough, but his inward disposition soft and 
kind. It is a pity that such a man could not have 
been kept free from trouble. But so harassing were 
his disputes with the representatives of the people that 
he fell into a fever, of which he died in 1729. The 
Legislature had refused him a salary while alive ; but 



THE REJECTED BLESSING. 103 

they appropriated money enough to give him a splendid 
and pompous funeral." 

And now Grandfather perceived that little Alice 
had fallen fast asleep, with her head upon his foot- 
stool. Indeed, as Clara observed, she had been sleej)- 
ing from the time of Sir Hovenden Walker's expedition 
against Quebec until the death of Governor Burnet, — 
a period of about eighteen years. And yet, after so 
long a nap, sweet little Alice was a golden-haired child 
of scarcely five years old. 

" It puts me in mind," said Laurence, " of the story 
of the enchanted princess, who slept many a hundred 
years, and awoke as young and beautiful as ever." 



1 



CHAPTER VI. 

POMPS AND VANITIES. 

A FEW evenings afterwards, cousin Clara happened 
to inquire of Grandfather whether the old chair had 
never been present at a ball. At the same time little 
Alice brought forward a doll, with whom she had been 
holding a long conversation. 

" See, Grandfather ! " cried she. " Did such a pretty 
lady as this ever sit in your great chair ? " 

These questions led Grandfather to talk about the 
fashions and manners which now began to be in- 
troduced from England into the provinces. The sim- 
plicity of the good old Puritan times was fast 
disaj^pearing. This was partly owing to the increas- 
ing number and wealth of the inhabitants, and to the 
additions which they continually received by the ar- 
rival and settlement of people from beyond the sea. 

Another cause of a pompous and artificial mode of 
life, among those who could afford it, was that the 
example was set by the royal governors. Under the 
old charter, the governors were the rej^resentatives of 
the people, and therefore their way of living had prob- 
ably been marked by a popular simplicit3^ But now, 
as they represented the person of the king, they thought 
it necessary to preserve the dignity of their station by 
the 2:)ractice of high and gorgeous ceremonials. And, 
besides, the profitable offices under the government 
were filled by men who had lived in London, and had 



POMPS AND VANITIES. 105 

there contracted fashionable and luxurious habits of 
living which they would not now lay aside. The 
wealthy people of the province imitated them ; and 
thus began a general change in social life. 

" So, my dear Clara," said Grandfather, " after our 
chair had entered the Province House, it must often 
have been present at balls and festivals ; though I 
cannot give you a description of any particular one. 
But I doubt not that they were very magnificent ; and 
slaves in gorgeous liveries waited on the guests, and 
offered them wine in goblets of massive silver." 

" Were there slaves in those days ! " exclaimed 
Clara. 

" Yes, black slaves and white," replied Grandfather. 
" Our ancestors not only brought negroes from Africa, 
but Indians from South America, and white people 
from Ireland. These last were sold, not for life, but 
for a certain number of years, in order to pay the ex- 
penses of their voyage across the Atlantic. Nothing 
was more common than to see a lot of likely Irish 
girls advertised for sale in the newspapers. As for 
the little negro babies, they were offered to be given 
away like young kittens." 

" Perhaps Alice would have liked one to play with, 
instead of her doll," said Charley, laughing. 

But little Alice clasped the waxen doll closer to her 
bosom. 

" Now, as for this pretty doll, my little Alice," said 
Grandfather, " I wish you could have seen what splen- 
did dresses the ladies wore in those times. They had 
silks, and satins, and damasks, and brocades, and 
high head-dresses, and all sorts of fine things. And 
they used to wear hooped petticoats of such enormous 
size that it was quite a journey to walk round them." 



106 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

" And how did the gentlemen dress ? " asked Char- 
ley. 

" With full as much magnificence as the ladies," an- 
swered Grandfather. " For their holiday suits they 
had coats of figured velvet, crimson, green, blue, and 
all other gay colors, embroidered with gold or silver 
lace. Their waistcoats, which were five times as large 
as modern ones, were very splendid. Sometimes the 
whole waistcoat, which came down almost to the 
knees, was made of gold brocade." 

" Why, the wearer must have shone like a golden 
image ! " said Clara. 

" And then," continued Grandfather, " they wore 
various sorts of periwigs, such as the tie, the Spencer, 
the brigadier, the major, the Albemarle, the Ramillies, 
the feather-top, and the full-bottom. Their three- 
cornered hats were laced with gold or silver. They 
had shining buckles at the knees of their small- 
clothes, and buckles likewise in their shoes. They 
wore swords with beautiful hilts, either of silver, or 
sometimes of polished steel, inlaid with gold." 

" Oh, I should like to wear a sword ! " cried Char- 
ley. 

" And an embroidered crimson velvet coat," said 
Clara, laughing, " and a gold brocade waistcoat down 
to your knees." 

'* And knee-buckles and shoe-buckles," said Lau- 
rence, laughing also. 

" And a periwig," added little Alice, soberly, not 
knowing what w^as the article of dress which she rec- 
ommended to our friend Charley. 

Grandfather smiled at the idea of Charley's sturdy 
little figure in such a grotesque caparison. He then 
went on with the history of the chair, and told the 



POMPS AND VANITIES. 107 

children that, in 1730, King George II. appointed 
Jonathan Belcher ^ to be governor of Massachusetts 
in place of the deceased Governor Burnet. Mr. 
Belcher was a native of the province, but had spent 
much of his life in Europe. 

The new governor found Grandfather's chair in the 
Province House. He was struck with its noble and 
stately aspect, but was of opinion that age and hard 
services had made it scarcely so fit for courtly com- 
pany as when it stood in the Earl of Lincoln's hall. 
Wherefore, as Governor Belcher was fond of splen- 
dor, he employed a skilful artist to beautify the chair. 
This was done by polishing and varnishing it, and by 
gilding the carved work of the elbows, and likewise 
the oaken flowers of the back. The lion's head now 
shone like a veritable lump of gold. Finally Governor 
Belcher gave the chair a cushion of blue damask, with 
a rich golden fringe. 

" Our good old chair being thus glorified," pro- 
ceeded Grandfather, " it glittered with a great deal 
more splendor than it had exhibited just a century 
before, when the Lady Arbella brought it over from 
England. Most people mistook it for a chair of the 
latest London fashion. And this may serve for an 
example, that there is almost always an old and time- 
worn substance under all the glittering show of new 
invention." 

'' Grandfather, I cannot see any of the gilding," re- 
marked Charley, who had been examining the chair 
very minutely. 

" You will not wonder that it has been rubbed off," 
replied Grandfather, " when you hear all the adven- 
tures that have since befallen the chair. Gilded it 

1 Another of Hawthorne's stories, The Minister's Black Veil, 
is told of the times of Governor Belcher. 



108 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

was ; and the handsomest room in the Province House 
was adorned by it." 

There was not much to interest the children in what 
happened during the years that Governor Belcher re- 
mained in the chair. At first, like Colonel Shute and 
Governor Burnet, he was engaged in disputing with 
the Legislature about his salary. But, as he found it 
impossible to get a fixed sum, he finally obtained the 
king's leave to accept whatever the Legislature chose 
to give him. And thus the people triumphed, after 
this long contest for the privilege of expending their 
own money as they saw fit. 

The remainder of Governor Belcher's term of office 
was principally taken up in endeavoring to settle the 
currency. Honest John Hull's pine-tree shillings had 
long ago been worn out, or lost, or melted down 
again ; and their place was supplied by bills of paper 
or parchment, which were nominally valued at three- 
pence and upwards. The value of these bills kept 
continually sinking, because the real hard money 
could not be obtained for them. They were a great 
deal worse than the old Lidian currency of clam-shells. 
These disorders of the circulating medium were a 
source of endless plague and perplexity to the rulers 
and legislators, not only in Governor Belcher's days, 
but for many years before and afterwards. 

Finally the people suspected that Governor Belcher 
was secretly endeavoring to establish the Episcopal 
mode of worship in the provinces. There was enough 
of the old Puritan sjjirit remaining to cause most of 
the true sons of New England to look with horror 
upon such an attempt. Great exertions were made to 
induce the king to remove the governor. Accordingly, 
in 1740, he was compelled to resign his office, and 
Grandfather's chair into the bargain, to Mr. Shirley. 



CHAPTER VII. 



THE PROVINCIAL MUSTER. 



"William Shirley," said Grandfather, "had 
come from England a few years before, and begun to 
practise hiw in Boston. You will think, perhaps, that, 
as he had been a lawyer, the new governor used to sit 
in our great chair reading heavy law-books from morn- 
ing till night. On the contrary, he was as stirring 
and active a governor as Massachusetts ever had. 
Even Sir William Phips hardly equalled him. The 
first year or two of his administration was spent in 
trying to regidate the currency. But in 1744, after a 
peace of more than thirty years, war broke out between 
France and England." 

" And I suppose," said Charley, "the governor went 
to take Canada." 

" Not exactly, Charley," said Grandfather ; " though 
you have made a pretty shrewd conjecture. He 
planned, in 1745, an expedition against Louisburg. 
This was a fortified city, on the island of Cape Bre- 
ton, near Nova Scotia. Its walls were of immense 
height and strength, and were defended by hundreds 
of heavy cannon. It was the strongest fortress which 
the French possessed in America ; and if the king of 
France had guessed Governor Shirley's intentions, he 
would have sent all the ships he coidd muster to pro- 
tect it." 

As the siege of Louisburg was one of the most 



110 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

remarkable events that ever the inhabitants of New 
England were engaged in, Grandfather endeavored to 
give his auditors a lively idea of the spirit with which 
they set about it. We shall call his description The 
Provincial Muster. 

The expedition against Louisburg first began to be 
thought of in the month of January. From that time 
the governor's chair was continually surrounded by 
councillors, representatives, clergymen, captains, pilots, 
and all manner of people, with whom he consulted 
about this wonderful project. 

First of all, it was necessary to provide men and 
arms. The Legislature immediately sent out a huge 
quantity of paper-money, with which, as if by magic 
spell, the governor hoped to get possession of all the 
old cannon, powder and balls, rusty swords and mus- 
kets, and everything else that would be serviceable 
in killing Frenchmen. Drums were beaten in all 
the villages of Massachusetts to enlist soldiers for the 
service. Messages were sent to the other governors of 
New England, and to New York and Pennsylvania, 
entreating them to unite in this crusade against the 
French. All these provinces agreed to give what as- 
sistance they could. 

But there was one very important thing to be de- 
cided. Who shall be the general of this great army? 
Peace had continued such an unusual length of time 
that there was now less military experience among the 
colonists than at any former period. The old Puritans 
had always kept their weapons bright, and were never 
destitute of warlike captains who were skilful in as- 
sault or defence. But the swords of their descendents 
had grown rusty by disuse. There was nobody in New 
England that knew anything about sieges or any other 




THE PROVINCE HOUSE, BOSTON 
Bought in 171 5 by the Province as a residence for the Royal Governors. 



4 



THE PROVINCIAL MUSTER. Ill 

regular fighting. The only persons at all acquainted 
with warlike business were a few elderly men, who had 
hunted Indians through the underbrush of the forest 
in old Governor Dummer's War. 

In this dilemma Governor Shirley fixed upon a 
wealthy merchant, named William Pepj^erell, who 
was prett}^ well known and liked among the people. 
As to military skill, he had no more of it than his 
neighbors. But, as the governor urged him very 
pressingly, Mr. Pepperell consented to shut up his 
ledger, gird on a sword, and assume the title of 
general. 

Meantime, what a hubbub was raised by this scheme ! 
Rub-a-dub-dub ! rub-a-dub-dub ! The rattle of drums, 
beaten out of all manner of time, was heard above 
every other sound. 

Nothing now was so valuable as arms, of whatever 
style and fashion they might be. The bellows blew, 
and the hammer clanged continually upon the anvil, 
while the blacksmiths were repairing the broken weap- 
ons of other wars. Doubtless some of the soldiers 
lugged out those enormous, heavy muskets which used 
to be fired, with rests, in the time of the early Puri- 
tans. Great horse-pistols, too, were found, which 
would go off with a bang like a cannon. Old can- 
non, with touchholes almost as big as their muzzles, 
were looked upon as inestimable treasures. Pikes 
which, perhaps, had been handled by Miles Standish's 
soldiers, now made their appearance again. Many a 
young man ransacked the garret and brought forth 
his great-grandfather's sword, corroded with rust and 
stained with the blood of King Philip's War. 

Never had there been such an arming as this, when 
a people, so long peaceful, rose to the war with the 



112 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

best weapons that they could lay their hands upon. 
And still the drums were heard — rub-a-dub-dub ! 
rub-a-dub-dub ! — in all the towns and villages ; and 
louder and more numerous grew the trampling foot- 
steps of the recruits that marched behind. 

And now the army began to gather into Boston. 
Tall, lanky, awkward fellows came in squads, and 
companies, and regiments, swaggering along, dressed 
in their brown homespun clothes and blue yarn stock- 
ings. They stooped as if they still had hold of the 
plough-handles, and marched without any time or 
tune. Hither they came, from the cornfields, from 
the clearing in the forest, from the blacksmith's forge, 
from the carpenter's workshop, and from the shoe- 
maker's seat. They were an army of rough faces and 
sturdy frames. A trained officer of Europe would 
have laughed at them till his sides had ached. But 
there was a spirit in their bosoms which is more 
essential to soldiership than to wear red coats and 
march in stately ranks to the sound of regular music. 

Still was heard the beat of the drum, — rub-a-dub- 
dub ! And now a host of three or four thousand men 
had found their way to Boston. Little quiet was 
there then ! Forth scampered the school-boys, shout- 
ing behind the drums. The whole town, the whole 
land, was on fire with war. 

After the arrival of the troops, they were probably 
reviewed upon the Common. We may imagine Gov- 
ernor Shirley and General Pepperell riding slowly 
along the line, while the drummers beat strange old 
tunes, like psalm-tunes, and all the officers and soldiers 
put on their most warlike looks. It would have been 
a terrible sight for the Frenchmen, could they but 
have witnessed it ! 



THE PROVINCIAL MUSTER. 113 

At length, on the 24th of March, 1745, the army 
gave a parting shout, and set sail from Boston in ten 
or twelve vessels which had been hired by the gov- 
ernor. A few days afterwards an English fleet, com- 
manded by Commodore Peter Warren, sailed also for 
Louisburg to assist the provincial army. So now, 
after all this bustle of preparation, the town and 
province were left in stillness and repose. 

But stillness and repose, at such a time of anxious 
expectation, are hard to bear. The hearts of the old 
people and women sunk within them when they re- 
flected what perils they had sent their sons, and hus- 
bands, and brothers to encounter. The boys loitered 
heavily to school, missing the rub-a-dub-dub and the 
trampling march, in the rear of which they had so 
lately run and shouted. All the ministers prayed 
earnestly in their pulpits for a blessing on the army 
of New England. In every family, when the good 
man lifted up his heart in domestic worship, the bur- 
den of his petition was for the safety of those dear 
ones who were fighting under the walls of Louisburg. 

Governor Shirley all this time was probably in an 
ecstasy of impatience. He could not sit still a mo- 
ment. He found no quiet, not even in Grandfather's 
chair ; but hurried to and fro, and up and down the 
staircase of the Province House. Now he mounted to 
the cupola and looked seaward, straining his eyes to 
discover if there were a sail upon the horizon. Now 
he hastened down the stairs, and stood beneath the 
portal, on the red free-stone steps, to receive some 
mud-bespattered courier, from whom he hoped to hear 
tidings of the army. A few weeks after the depar- 
ture of the troops. Commodore Warren sent a small 
vessel to Boston with two French prisoners. One of 



114 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

them was Monsieur Bouladrie, who had been com- 
mander of a battery outside the walls of Louisburg. 
The other was the Marquis de la Maison Forte, cap- 
tain of a French frigate which had been taken by 
Commodore Warren's fleet. These prisoners assured 
Governor Shirley that the fortifications of Louisburg 
were far too strong ever to be stormed by the provin- 
cial army. 

Day after day and week after week went on. The 
people grew almost heart-sick with anxiety ; for the 
flower of the country was at peril in this adventurous 
expedition. It was now daybreak on the morning of 
the 3d of July. 

But hark ! what sound is this ? The hurried clang 
of a bell ! There is the Old North pealing suddenly 
out ! — there the Old South strikes in ! — now the peal 
comes from the church in Brattle Street ! — the bells 
of nine or ten steeples are all flinging their iron voices 
at once upon the morning breeze ! Is it joy, or alarm ? 
There goes the roar of a cannon too ! A royal salute 
is thundered forth. And now we hear the loud exult- 
ing shout of a multitude assembled in the street. 
Huzza ! huzza ! Louisburg has surrendered ! Huzza ! 

" O Grandfather, how glad I should have been to 
live in those times ! " cried Charley. " And what re- 
ward did the king give to General Pepperell and 
Governor Shirley ? " 

" He made Pepperell a baronet ; so that he was 
now to be called Sir William Pej^perell," replied 
Grandfather. " He likewise appointed both Pepperell 
and Shirley to be colonels in the royal army. These 
rewards, and higher ones, were well deserved ; for this 
was the greatest triumph that the English met with in 



THE PROVINCIAL MUSTER. 115 

the whole course of that war. General Pepperell be- 
came a man of great fame. I have seen a full-length 
portrait of him, representing him in a splendid scarlet 
uniform, standing before the walls of Louisburg, while 
several bombs are falling through the air." 

"But did the country gain any real good by the 
conquest of Louisburg ? " asked Laurence. " Or was 
all the benefit reaped by Pepperell and Shirley ? " 

"The English Parliament," replied Grandfather, 
" agreed to pay the colonists for all the expenses of 
the siege. Accordingly, in 1749, two hundred and 
fifteen chests of Spanish dollars and one hundred 
casks of copper coin were brought from England to 
Boston. The whole amount was about a million of 
dollars. Twenty-seven carts and trucks carried this 
money from the wharf to the provincial treasury. 
Was not this a pretty liberal reward?" 

" The mothers of the young men who were killed 
at the siege of Louisburg would not have thought it 
so," said Laurence. 

" No, Laurence," rejoined Grandfather ; " and every 
warlike achievement involves an amount of physical 
and moral evil, for which all the gold in the Spanish 
mines would not be the slightest recompense. But 
we are to consider that this siege was one of the oc- 
casions on which the colonists tested their ability for 
war, and thus were prepared for the great contest of 
the Revolution. In that point of view, the valor of 
our forefathers was its own reward." 

Grandfather went on to say that the success of the 
expedition against Louisburg induced Shirley and 
Pepperell to form a scheme for conquering Canada. 
This plan, however, was not carried into execution. 

In the year 1746 great terror was excited by the 



116 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

arrival of a formidable French fleet upon the coast. 
It was commanded by the Duke d'Anville, and con- 
sisted of forty ships of war, besides vessels with sol- 
diers on board. With this force the French intended 
to retake Louisburg, and afterwards to ravage the 
whole of New England. Many people were ready to 
give up the country for lost. 

But the hostile fleet met with so many disasters and 
losses by storm and shipwreck, that the Duke d'An- 
ville is said to have poisoned himself in despair. The 
ofiicer next in command threw himself upon his sword 
and perished. Thus deprived of their commanders, 
the remainder of the ships returned to France. This 
was as great a deliverence for New England as that 
which Old England had experienced in the days of 
Queen Elizabeth, when the Spanish Armada was 
wrecked upon her coast.^ 

" In 1747," proceeded Grandfather, " Governor Shir- 
ley was driven from the Pro\ance House, not by a 
hostile fleet and army, but by a mob of the Boston 
people. They were so incensed at the conduct of the 
British Connnodore Knowles, who had impressed some 
of their fellow-citizens, that several thousands of them 
surrounded the council chamber and threw stones and 
brickbats into the windows. The governor attempted 
to pacify them ; but not succeeding, he thought it 
necessary to leave the town and take refuge within 
the walls of Castle William. Quiet was not restored 
until Commodore Knowles had sent back the impressed 
men. This affair was a flash of spirit that might have 
warned the English not to venture upon any oppres- 
sive measures against their colonial brethren." 

^ Longfellow's poem A Ballad of the French Fleet is based on 
this incident. 



THE PROVINCIAL MUSTER. 117 

Peace being declared between France and England 
in 1748, the governor had now an opportunity to sit 
at his ease in Grandfather's chair. Such repose, how- 
ever, appears not to have suited his disposition ; for 
in the following year he went to England, and thence 
was despatched to France on public business. Mean- 
while, as Shirley had not resigned his office, Lieu- 
tenant-Governor Phips acted as chief magistrate in 
his stead. 



CHAPTER VIII. 



THE OLD FRENCH WAR AND THE ACADIAN EXILES. 



In the early twilight of Thanksgiving Eve came 
Laurence, and Clara, and Charley, and little Alice, 
hand in hand, and stood in a semicircle round Grand- 
father's chair. They had been joyous throughout that 
day of festivity, mingling together in all kinds of play, 
so that the house had echoed with their airy mirth. 

Grandfather, too, had been happy though not mirth- 
ful. He felt that this was to be set down as one of 
the good Thanksgivings of his life. In truth, all his 
former Thanksgivings had borne their part in the 
present one ; for his years of infancy, and youth, and 
manhood, with their blessings and their griefs, had 
flitted before him while he sat silently in the great 
chair. Vanished scenes had been pictured in the 
air. The forms of departed friends had visited him. 
Voices to be heard no more on earth had sent an echo 
from the infinite and the eternal. These shadows, if 
such they were, seemed almost as real to him as what 
was actually present, — as the merry shouts and laugh- 
ter of the children, — as their figures, dancing like 
sunshine before his eyes. 

He felt that the past was not taken from him. The 
happiness of former days was a i^ossession forever. 
And there was something in the mingled sorrow of his 
lifetime that became akin to happiness, after being 
long treasured in the depths of his heart. There it 



THE OLD FRENCH WAR. 119 

underwent a change, and grew more precious than 
pure gold. 

And now came the children, somewhat aweary with 
their wild play, and sought the quiet enjoyment of 
Grandfather's talk. The good old gentleman rubbed 
his eyes and smiled round upon them all. He was 
glad, as most aged people are, to fuid that he was yet 
of consequence, and could give pleasure to the world. 
After being so merry all day long, did these children 
desire to hear his sober talk ? Oh, then, old Grand- 
father had yet a place to till among living men, — or 
at least among boys and girls ! 

" Begin quick, Grandfather," cried little Alice ; 
" for pussy wants to hear you." 

And truly our yellow friend, the cat, lay upon the 
hearth-rug, basking in the warmth of the fire, prick- 
ing up her ears, and turning her head from the chil- 
dren to Grandfather, and from Grandfather to the 
children as if she felt herself very sympathetic with 
them all. A loud purr, like the singing of a tea-ket- 
tle or the hum of a spinning-wheel, testified that she 
was as comfortable and happy as a cat could be. For 
puss had feasted ; and therefore, like Grandfather and 
the children, had kept a good Thanksgiving. 

" Does pussy want to hear me ? " said Grandfather, 
smiling. " Well, we must please pussy, if we can." 

And so he took up the history of the chair from the 
epoch of the peace of 1748. By one of the provisions 
of the treaty, Louisburg, which the New-Englanders 
had been at so much pains to take, was restored to the 
King of France. 

The French were afraid that, unless their colonies 
should be better defended than heretofore, another 
war might deprive them of the whole. Almost as 



120 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

soon as peace was declared, therefore, they began to 
build strong fortifications in the interior of North 
America. It was strange to behold these warlike cas- 
tles on the banks of solitary lakes and far in the midst 
of woods. The Indian, paddling his birch canoe on 
Lake Champlain, looked up at the high ramj)arts of 
Ticonderoga, stone piled on stone, bristling with can- 
non, and the white flag of France floating above. 
There were similar fortifications on Lake Ontario, and 
near the great Falls of Niagara, and at the sources of 
the Ohio River. And all around these forts and 
castles lay the eternal forest, and the roll of the drum 
died away in those deep solitudes. 

The truth was, that the French intended to build 
forts all the way from Canada to Louisiana. They 
would then have had a wall of military strength at the 
back of the English settlements so as completely to 
hem them in. The King of England considered the 
building of these forts as a sufficient cause of war, 
which was accordingly commenced in 1754. 

" Governor Shirley," said Grandfather, " had re- 
turned to Boston in 1753. While in Paris he had 
married a second wife, a young French girl, and now 
brought her to the Province House. But when war 
was breaking out it was impossible for such a bustling 
man to stay quietly at home, sitting in our old chair, 
with his wife and children round about him. He 
therefore obtained a command in the English forces." 

" And what did Sir William PeppereU do ? " asked 
Charley. 

" He stayed at home," said Grandfather, " and was 
general of the militia. The veteran regiments of the 
English army which were now sent across the Atlantic 
would have scorned to fight under the orders of an old 



THE OLD FRENCH WAR. 121 

American merchant. And now began what aged peo- 
ple call the old French War. It would be going too 
far astray from the history of our chair to tell you one 
half of the battles that were fought. I cannot even 
allow myself to describe the bloody defeat of General 
Braddock, near the sources of the Ohio River, in 1755. 
But I must not omit to mention that, when the Eng- 
lish general was mortally wounded and his army 
routed, the remains of it were preserved by the skill 
and valor of George Washington." 

At the mention of this illustrious name the children 
started as if a sudden sunlight had gleamed upon the 
history of their country, now that the great deliverer 
had arisen above the horizon. 

Among all the events of the old French War, Grand- 
father thought that there was none more interesting, 
than the removal of the inhabitants of Acadia. From 
the first settlement of this ancient province of the 
French, in 1604, until the present time, its people 
could scarcely ever know what kingdom held domin- 
ion over them. They were a peaceful race, taking 
no delight in warfare, and caring nothing for military 
renown. And yet, in every war, their region was in- 
fested with iron-hearted soldiers, both French and Eng- 
lish, who fought one another for the privilege of ill- 
treating these poor, harmless Acadians. Sometimes 
the treaty of peace made them subjects of one king, 
sometimes of another. 

At the peace of 1748 Acadia had been ceded to Eng- 
land. But the French still claimed a large portion of 
it, and built forts for its defence. In 1755 these forts 
were taken, and the whole of Acadia was conquered 
by three thousand men from Massachusetts, under the 
command of General Winslow. The inhabitants were 



122 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

accused of supplying the French with provisions, and 
of doing other things that violated their neutrality. 

" These accusations were probably true," observed 
Grandfather ; " for the Acadian s were descended from 
the French, and had the same friendly feelings towards 
them that the people of Massachusetts had for the 
English. But their punishment was severe. The Eng- 
lish determined to tear these poor people from their 
native homes and scatter them abroad." 

The Acadians were about seven thousand in num- 
ber. A considerable part of them were made pris- 
oners, and transported to the English colonies. All 
their dwellings and churches were burned, their cat- 
tle were killed, and the whole country was laid waste, 
so that none of them might find shelter or food in 
their old homes after the departure of the English. 
One thousand of the prisoners were sent to Massachu- 
setts ; ^ and Grandfather allowed his fancy to follow 
them thither, and tried to give his auditors an idea 
of their situation. 

We shall call this passage the story of 

THE ACADIAN EXILES. 

A sad day it was for the poor Acadians when the 
armed soldiers drove them, at the point of the bayonet, 
down to the sea-shore. Very sad were they, likewise, 
while tossing upon the ocean in the crowded transport 

'1 Although Longfellow's Evangeline will be read by all, and 
be remembered as the affecting tale of the Acadian exiles, it is 
worth while to read also a contemporaneous narrative, and the 
appendix to this part contains an extract from Haliburton's 
Historical and Statistical Account of Nova Scotia, the book to 
which Hawthorne and Longfellow resorted for their informa- 
tion. 



1 



_^^£^|^<^, 











M. 




^M 



jiiiuisssamfBiiii HiuIuwi'JlSa. 



124 



GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 



vessels. But metliinks it must have been sadder still 
when they were landed on the Long Wharf in Boston, 
and left to themselves on a foreign stand. 

Then, probably, they huddled together and looked 
into one another's faces for the comfort which was not 
there. Hitherto they had been confined on board of 
separate vessels, so that they could not tell whether 
their relatives and friends were j)risoners along with 
them. But now, at least, they could tell that many 
had been left behind or transported to other regions. 

Now a desolate wife might be heard calling for her 
husband. He, alas ! had gone, she knew not whither ; 
or perhaps had fled into the woods of Acadia, and had 
now returned to weep over the ashes of their dwelling. 

An aged widow was crying out in a querulous, lam- 
entable tone for her son, whose affectionate toil had 
supported her for many a year. He was not in the 
crowd of exiles ; and what could this aged widow do 
but sink down and die ? Young men and maidens, 
whose hearts had been torn asunder by separation, had 
hoped, during the voyage, to meet their beloved ones 
at its close. Now they began to feel that they were 
separated forever. And perhaps a lonesome little girl, 
a golden-haired child of five years old, the very picture 
of our little Alice, was weeping and wailing for her 
mother, and found not a soul to give her a kind 
word. 

Oh, how many broken bonds of affection were here ! 
Country lost, — friends lost, — their rural wealth of 
cottage, field, and herds all lost together ! Every tie 
between these poor exiles and the world seemed to be 
cut off at once. They must have regretted that they 
had not died before their exile ; for even the English 
would not have been so pitiless as to deny them graves 



THE ACADIAN EXILES. 125 

in tlieir native soil. The dead were happy ; for they 
were not exiles ! 

While they thus stood upon the wharf, the curios- 
ity and inquisitiveness of the New England people 
would naturally lead them into the midst of the poor 
Acadian s. Prying busybodies thrust their heads into 
the circle wherever two or three of the exiles were con- 
versing together. How puzzled did they look at the 
outlandish sound of the French tongue ! There were 
seen the New England women, too. They had just 
come out of their warm, safe homes, where everything 
was regular and comfortable, and where their hus- 
bands and children would be with them at nis^htfall. 
Surely they could pity the wretched wives and mothers 
of Acadia ! Or did the sign of the cross which the 
Acadians continually made upon their breasts, and 
which was abhorred by the descendants of the Puri- 
tans, — did that sign exclude all pity ? ^ 

Among the spectators, too, was the noisy brood of 
Boston school-boys, who came running, with laughter 
and shouts, to gaze at this crowd of oddly dressed for- 
eigners. At first they danced and capered around 
them, full of merriment and mischief. But the de- 
spair of the Acadians soon had its effect upon these 
thoughtless lads, and melted them into tearful sym- 
pathy. 

At a little distance from the throng might be seen 
the wealthy and pompous merchants whose warehouses 
stood on Long Wharf. It was difficult to touch these 
rich men's hearts ; for they had all the comforts of 
the world at their command ; and when they walked 
abroad their feelings were seldom moved, except by 
the roughness of the pavement irritating their gouty 
^ See Whittier's poem Marguerite. 



126 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

toes. Leaning upon their gold-headed canes, they 
watched the scene with an aspect of composure. But 
let us hope they distributed some of their superfluous 
coin among these hapless exiles to purchase food and 
a night's lodging. 

After standing a long time at the end of the wharf, 
gazing seaward, as if to catch a glimpse of their lost 
Acadia, the strangers began to stray into the town. 

They went, we will suppose, in parties and groups, 
here a hundred, there a score, there ten, there three or 
four, who possessed some bond of unity among them- 
selves. Here and there was one who, utterly desolate, 
stole away by himself, seeking no companionship. 

Whither did they go ? I imagine them wandering 
about the streets, telling the townspeople, in outland- 
ish, unintelligible words, that no earthly affliction ever 
equalled what had befallen them. Man's brotherhood 
with man was sufficient to make the New-Englanders 
understand this language. The strangers wanted food. 
Some of them sought hospitality at the doors of the 
stately mansions which then stood in the vicinity of 
Hanover Street and the North Square. Others were 
applicants at the humble wooden tenements, where 
dwelt the petty shopkeepers and mechanics. Pray 
Heaven that no family in Boston turned one of these 
poor exiles from their door ! It would be a reproach 
upon New England, — a crime worthy of heavy retri- 
bution, — if the aged women and children, or even the 
strong men, were allowed to feel the pinch of hunger. 

Perhaps some of the Acadians, in their aimless wan- 
derings through the town, found themselves near a 
large brick edifice, which was fenced in from the street 
by an iron railing, wrought with fantastic figures. 
They saw a flight of red freestone steps ascending to 



THE ACADIAN EXILES. 127 

a portal, above which was a balcony and balustrade. 
Misery and desolation give men the right of free pas- 
sage everywhere. Let us suppose, then, that they 
mounted the flight of steps and passed into the Prov- 
ince House. Making their way into one of the apart- 
ments, they beheld a richly-clad gentleman, seated in a 
stately chair, with gilding upon the carved work of its 
back, and a gilded lion's head at the summit. This 
was Governor Shirley, meditating upon matters of 
war and state, in Grandfather's chair ! 

If such an incident did happen, Shirley, reflecting 
what a ruin of peaceful and humble hopes had been 
wrought by the cold policy of the statesman and the 
iron hand of the warrior, might have drawn a deep 
moral from it. It should have taught him that the 
poor man's hearth is sacred, and that armies and 
nations have no rio-ht to violate it. It should have 
made him feel that England's triumph and increased 
dominion could not compensate to mankind nor atone 
to Heaven for the ashes of a single Acadian cottage. 
But it is not thus that statesmen and warriors mor- 
alize. 

" Grandfather," cried Laurence, with emotion trem- 
bling in his voice, "did iron-hearted War itself ever 
do so hard and cruel a thing as this before ? " 

"You have read in history, Laurence, of whole 
regions wantonly laid waste," said Grandfather. " In 
the removal of the Acadians, the troops were guilty of 
no cruelty or outrage, except what was inseparable 
from the measure." 

Little Alice, whose eyes had all along been brim- 
ming full of tears, now burst forth a-sobbing ; for 
Grandfather had touched her sympathies more than he 
intended. 



128 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

" To think of a whole people homeless in the world ! " 
said Clara, with moistened eyes. " There never was 
anything so sad ! " 

" It was their own fault ! " cried Charley, energeti- 
cally. " Why did not they fight for the country where 
they were born ? Then, if the worst had happened to 
them, they could only have been killed and buried 
there. They would not have been exiles then." 

" Certainly their lot was as hard as death," said 
Grandfather. " All that could be done for them in 
the English provinces was, to send them to the alms- 
houses, or bind them out to taskmasters. And this 
was the fate of persons who had possessed a comfort- 
able property in their native country. Some of them 
found means to embark for France ; but though it was 
the land of their forefathers, it must have been a for- 
eign land to them. Those who remained behind al- 
ways cherished a belief that the King of France would 
never make peace with England till his poor Acadians 
were restored to their country and their homes." 

" And did he ? " inquired Clara. 

"Alas! my dear Clara," said Grandfather, "it is 
improbable that the slightest whisper of the woes of 
Acadia ever reached the ears of Louis XY. The ex- 
iles grew old in the British provinces, and never saw 
Acadia again. Their descendants remain among us to 
this day. They have forgotten the language of their 
ancestors, and probably retain no tradition of their 
misfortunes. But, methinks, if I were an American 
poet, I would choose Acadia for the subject of my 
song." 

Since Grandfather first spoke these words, the most 
famous of American poets has drawn sweet tears from 
all of us by his beautiful poem Evangeline. 



THE ACADIAN EXILES. 129 

And now, having thrown a gentle gloom around the 
Thanksgiving fireside by a story that made the chil- 
dren feel the blessing of a secure and peaceful hearth, 
Grandfather put off the other events of the old French 
War till the next evening. 



CHAPTER IX. 

THE END OF THE WAR. 

In the twilight of the succeeding eve, when the red 
beams of the fire were dancing upon the waU, the chil- 
dren besought Grandfather to tell them what had next 
happened to the old chair. 

" Our chair," said Grandfather, " stood all this 
time in the Province House. But Governor Shirley 
had seldom an opportunity to repose within its arms. 
He was leading his troops through the forest, or sail- 
ing in a flat-boat on Lake Ontario, or sleeping in his 
tent, while the awful cataract of Niagara sent its roar 
through his dreams. At one period, in the early part 
of the war, Shirley had the chief command of all the 
king's forces in America." 

" Did his young wife go with him to the war ? " 
asked Clara. 

" I rather imagine," replied Grandfather, " that she 
remained in Boston. This lady, I suppose, had our 
chair all to herself, and used to sit in it during those 
brief intervals when a young Frenchwoman can be 
quiet enough to sit in a chair. The people of Massa- 
chusetts were never fond of Governor Shirley's young 
French wife. They had a suspicion that she betrayed 
the military plans of the English to the generals of 
the French armies." 

" And was it true ? " inquired Clara. 

" Probably not," said Grandfather. " But the mere 



THE END OF THE WAR. 131 

suspicion did Shirley a great deal of harm. Partly, 
perhaps, for this reason, but much more on account of 
his inefficiency as a general, he was deprived of his 
command in 1756, and recalled to England. He 
never afterwards made any figure in public life." 

As Grandfather's chair had no locomotive proper- 
ties, and did not even run on castors, it cannot be sup- 
posed to have marched in person to the old French 
War. But Grandfather delayed its momentous his- 
tory while he touched briefly upon some of the bloody 
battles, sieges, and onslaughts, the tidings of which 
kept continually coming to the ears of the old inhabi- 
tants of Boston. The woods of the North were popu- 
lous with fighting men. All the Indian tribes uplifted 
their tomahawks, and took part either with the French 
or English. The rattle of musketry and roar of can- 
non disturbed the ancient quiet of the forest, and ac- 
tually drove the bears and other wild beasts to the 
more cultivated portion of the country in the vicinity 
of the seaports. The children felt as if they were 
transported back to those forgotten times, and that the 
couriers from the army, with the news of a battle lost 
or won, might even now be heard galloping through 
the streets. Grandfather told them about the battle 
of Lake George in 1755, when the gallant Colonel 
Williams,^ a Massachusetts officer, was slain, with 
many of his countrymen. But General Johnson and 
General Lyman, with their army, drove back the 
enemy and mortally wounded the French leader, who 
was called the Baron Dieskau. A gold watch, pilfered 
from the poor baron, is still in existence, and still 
marks each moment of time without complaining of 

1 Colonel Ephraim Williams in his will bequeathed money 
to endow a school which became Williams Colleo^e. 



132 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

weariness, altliongli its hands have been in motion 
ever since the hour of battle. 

In the first years of the war there were many dis- 
asters on the English side. Among these was the loss 
of Fort Oswego in 1756, and of Fort William Henry 
in the following year. But the greatest misfortune 
that befell the English during the whole war was the 
repulse of General Abercrombie, with his army, from 
the ramparts of Ticonderoga in 1758.^ He attempted 
to storm the walls ; but a terrible conflict ensued, in 
which more than two thousand Englishmen and New- 
Englanders were killed or wounded. The slain sol- 
diers now lie buried around that ancient fortress. 
When the plough passes over the soil, it turns up 
here and there a mouldering bone. 

Up to this period, none of the English generals had 
shown any military talent. Shirley, the Earl of Lou- 
don, and General Abercrombie had each held the chief 
command at different times ; but not one of them had 
won a single important triumph for the British arms. 
This ill success was not owing to the want of means ; 
for, in 1758, General Abercrombie had fifty thousand 
soldiers under his command. But the French general, 
the famous Marquis de Montcalm, possessed a great 
genius for war, and had something within him that 
taught him how battles were to be won. 

At length, in 1759, Sir Jeffrey Amherst was ap- 
pointed commander-in-chief of all the British forces in 
America. He was a man of ability and a skilful sol- 
dier. A plan was now formed for accomplishing that 
object which had so long been the darling wish of 
the New-Englanders, and which tlieir fathers had so 

^ See Hawthorne's Old Ticonderoga^ which may be found in 
Riverside Literature Series No. 40. 



THE END OF THE WAR. 133 

many times attempted. This was the conquest of 
Canada. 

Three separate armies were to enter Canada from 
different quarters. One of the three, commanded by 
General Prideaux, was to embark on Lake Ontario 
and proceed to Montreal. The second, at the head of 
which was Sir Jeffrey Amherst himself, was destined 
to reach the river St. Lawrence, by the way of Lake 
Chami^lain, and then go down the river to meet the 
third army. This last, led by General Wolfe, was to 
enter the St. Lawrence from the sea and ascend the 
river to Quebec. It is to Wolfe and his army that 
England owes one of the most splendid triumj^hs ever 
written in her history. 

Grandfather described the siege of Quebec, and told 
how Wolfe led his soldiers up a rugged and lofty 
precipice, that rose from the shore of the river to the 
plain on which the city stood. This bold adventure 
was achieved in the darkness of night. At daybreak 
tidings were carried to the Marquis de Montcalm that 
the English army was waiting to give him battle 
on the Plains of Abraham. This brave French gen- 
eral ordered his drums to strike up, and immediately 
marched to encounter Wolfe. 

He marched to his own death. The battle was the 
most fierce and terrible that had ever been fought in 
America. General Wolfe was at the head of his sol- 
diers, and, while encouraging them onward, received 
a mortal wound. He reclined against a stone in the 
agonies of death ; but it seemed as if his sj^irit could 
not pass away while the fight yet raged so doubtfully. 
Suddenly a shout came pealing across the battle-field. 
"They flee! they flee!" and, for a moment, Wolfe 
lifted his languid head. " Who flee ? " he inquired. 



134 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

" The French," replied an officer. " Then I die satis- 
fied ! " said Wolfe, and expired in the arms of victory. 

" If ever a warrior's death were glorious, Wolfe's 
was so," said Grandfather ; and his eye kindled, though 
he was a man of peaceful thoughts and gentle spirit. 
" His life-blood streamed to baptize the soil which he 
had added to the dominion of Britain. His dying 
breath was mingled with his army's shout of vie- 
tory." 

" Oh, it was a good death to die ! " cried Charley, 
with glistening eyes. " Was it not a good death, Lau- 
rence?" 

Laurence made no reply; for his heart burned 
within him, as the picture of Wolfe, dying on the 
blood-stained field of victory, arose to his imagination ; 
and yet he had a deep inward consciousness that, after 
all, there was a truer glory than could thus be won. 

" There were other battles in Canada after Wolfe's 
victory," resumed Grandfather ; " but we may consider 
the old French War as having terminated with this 
great event. The treaty of i)eace, however, was not 
signed until 1763. The terms of the treaty were very 
disadvantageous to the French ; for all Canada, and 
all Acadia, and the Island of Cape Breton, — in short, 
all the territories that France and England had been 
fighting about for nearly a hundred years, — were sur- 
rendered to the English." 

" So now, at last," said Laurence, " New England 
had gained her wish. Canada was taken." 

'' And now there was nobody to fight with but the 
Indians," said Charley. 

Grandfather mentioned two other important events. 
The first was the great fire of Boston in 1760, when 
the glare from nearly three hundred buildings, all in 



THE END OF THE WAR. 135 

flames at once, shone tlirougii the windows of the Prov- 
ince House, and threw a fierce lustre upon the gilded 
foliage and lion's head of our old chair. The second 
event was the proclamation, in the same year, of 
George III. as King of Great Britain. The blast of 
the trumpet sounded from the balcony of the Town 
House, and awoke the echoes far and wide, as if to 
challenge all mankind to dispute King George's title. 
Seven times, as the successive monarchs of Britain 
ascended the throne, the trumpet peal of proclamation 
had been heard by those who sat in our venerable 
chair. But when the next king put on his father's 
crown, no trumpet peal proclaimed it to New England. 
Long before that day America had shaken off the 
royal government. 



CHAPTER X. 

THOMAS HUTCHINSON. 

Now that Grandfather had fought through the old 
French War, in which our chair made no very distin- 
guished figure, he thought it high time to tell the chil- 
dren some of the more private history of that praise- 
worthy old piece of furniture. 

"In 1757," said Grandfather, "after Shirley had 
been summoned to England, Thomas Pownall was ap- 
pointed governor of Massachusetts. He was a gay 
and fashionable English gentleman, who had spent 
much of his life in London, but had a considerable 
acquaintance with America. The new governor ap- 
pears to have taken no active part in the war that was 
going on ; although, at one period, he talked of march- 
ing against the enemy at the head of his company of 
cadets. But, on the whole, he probably concluded 
that it was more befitting a governor to remain quietly 
in our chair, reading the newspapers and official docu- 
ments." 

" Did the people like Pownall? " asked Charley. 

" They found no fault with him," replied Grand- 
father. " It was no time to quarrel with the governor 
when the utmost harmony was required in order to de- 
fend the country against the French. But Pownall 
did not remain long in Massachusetts. In 1759 he 
was sent to be governor of South Carolina. In thus 
exchanging one government for another, I suppose he 



i 



THOMAS HUTCHINSON. 137 

felt no regret, except at the necessity of leaving Grand- 
father's chair behind him." 

" He might have taken it to South Carolina," ob- 
served Clara. 

" It appears to me," said Laurence, giving the rein 
to his fancy, " that the fate of this ancient chair was, 
somehow or other, mysteriously connected with the 
fortunes of old Massachusetts. If Governor Pownall 
had put it aboard the vessel in which he sailed for 
South Carolina, she would probably have lain wind- 
bound in Boston Harbor. It was ordained that the 
chair should not be taken away. Don't you think so, 
Grandfather?" 

" It was kept here for Grandfather and me to sit 
in together," said little Alice, " and for Grandfather 
to tell stories about." 

" And Grandfather is very glad of such a compan- 
ion and such a theme," said the old gentleman, with a 
smile. " Well, Laurence, if our oaken chair, like the 
wooden palladium of Troy, was connected with the 
country's fate, yet there appears to have been no su- 
pernatural obstacle to its removal from the Province 
House. In 1760 Sir Francis Bernard, who had been 
governor of New Jersey, was appointed to the same 
office in Massachusetts. He looked at the old chair, 
and thought it quite too shabby to keep company with 
a new set of mahogany chairs and an aristocratic sofa 
which had just arrived from London. He therefore 
ordered it to be put away in the garret." 

The children were loud in their exclamations against 
this irreverent conduct of Sir Francis Bernard. But 
Grandfather defended him as well as he could. He 
observed that it was then thirty years since the chair 
had been beautified by Governor Belcher. Most of 



138 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

the gilding was worn off by the frequent scourings 
which it had undergone beneath the hands of a black 
slave. The damask cushion, once so splendid, was 
now squeezed out of all shape, and absolutely in tat- 
ters, so many were the ponderous gentlemen who had 
deposited their weight upon it during these thirty 
years. 

Moreover, at a council held by the Earl of Loudon 
with the governors of New England in 1757, his lord- 
ship, in a moment of passion, had kicked over the 
chair with his military boot. By this unprovoked and 
unjustifiable act, our venerable friend had suffered a 
fracture of one of its rungs. 

'' But," said Grandfather, " our chair, after all, was 
not destined to spend the remainder of its days in the 
inglorious obscurity of a garret. Thomas Hutchinson, 
lieutenant-governor of the province, was told of Sir 
Francis Bernard's design. This gentleman was.more 
familiar with the history of New England than any 
other man alive. He knew all the adventures and 
vicissitudes through which the old chair had passed, 
and could have told as accurately as your own Grand- 
father who were the personages that had occupied it. 
Often, while visiting at the Province House, he had 
eyed the chair with admiration, and felt a longing 
desire to become the possessor of it. He now waited 
upon Sir Francis Bernard, and easily obtained leave 
to carry it home." 

" And I hope," said Clara, " he had it varnished 
and gilded anew." 

" No," answered Grandfather. " What Mr. Hutch- 
inson desired was, to restore the chair as much as 
possible to its original aspect, such as it had appeared 
when it was first made out of the Earl of Lincoln's 



THOMAS HUTCHINSON. 139 

oak-tree. For this purpose he ordered it to be well 
scoured with soap and sand and polished with wax, 
and then provided it with a substantial leather cush- 
ion. AVhen all was completed to his mind he sat down 
in the old chair, and began to write his History of 
Massachusetts." 

" Oh, that was a bright thought in Mr. Hutchinson," 
exclaimed Laurence. " And no doubt the dim figures 
of the former possessors of the chair flitted around him 
as he wrote, and inspired him with a knowledge of all 
that they had done and suffered while on earth." 

" Why, my dear Laurence," replied Grandfather, 
smiling, "if Mr. Hutchinson was favored with any 
such extraordinary inspiration, he made but a poor 
use of it in his history ; for a duller piece of compo- 
sition never came from any man's pen. However, he 
was accurate, at least, though far from possessing the 
brilliancy or philosophy of Mr. Bancroft." 

" But if Hutchinson knew the history of the chair," 
rejoined Laurence, " his heart must have been stirred 
by it." 

" It must, indeed," said Grandfather. " It would 
be entertaining and instructive, at the present day, to 
imagine what were Mr. Hutchinson's thoughts as he 
looked back upon the long vista of events with which 
this chair was so remarkably connected." 

And Grandfather allowed his fancy to shape out an 
image of Lieutenant-Governor Hutchinson, sitting in 
an evening reverie by his fireside, and meditating on 
the changes that had slowly passed around the chair. 

A devoted Monarchist, Hutchinson would heave no 
sigh for the subversion of the original republican gov- 
ernment, the purest that the world had seen, with 
which the colony began its existence. AVhile rever- 



140 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

encing the grim and stern old Puritans as the found- 
ers of his native land, he would not wish to recall them 
from their graves, nor to awaken again that king-re- 
sisting spirit which he imagined to be laid asleep with 
them forever. Winthrop, Dudley, Bellingham, Endi- 
cott, Leverett, and Bradstreet, — all these had had 
their day. Ages might come and go, but never again 
would the people's suffrages place a republican gov- 
ernor in their ancient chair of state. 

Coming down to the epoch of the second charter, 
Hutchinson thought of the ship - carpenter Phips, 
springing from the lowest of the people and attaining 
to the loftiest station in the land. But he smiled to 
perceive that this governor's example would awaken 
no turbulent ambition in the lower orders ; for it was 
a king's gracious boon alone that made the ship-car- 
penter a ruler. Hutchinson rejoiced to mark the grad- 
ual growth of an aristocratic class, to whom the com- 
mon people, as in duty bound, were learning humbly 
to resign the honors, emoluments, and authority of 
state. He saw — or else deceived himself — that, 
throughout this epoch, the people's disposition to self- 
government had been growing weaker through long 
disuse, and now existed only as a faint traditionary 
feeling. 

The lieutenant-governor's reverie had now come 
down to the period at which he himself was sitting 
in the historic chair. He endeavored to throw his 
glance forward over the coming years. There, prob- 
ably, he saw visions of hereditary rank for himself 
and other aristocratic colonists. He saw the fertile 
fields of New England proportioned out among a few 
great landholders, and descending by entail from gen- 
eration to generation. He saw the people a race of 



THOMAS HUTCHINSON. 141 

tenantry, dependent on their lords. He saw stars, 
garters, coronets, and castles. 

" But," added Grandfather, turning to Laurence, 
" the lieutenant-governor's castles were built nowhere 
but among the red embers of the fire before which he 
was sitting. And, just as he had constructed a baro- 
nial residence for himself and his posterity, the fire 
rolled down upon the hearth and crumbled it to ashes ! " 

Grandfather now looked at his watch, which hung 
within a beautiful little ebony temple, supported by 
four Ionic columns. He then laid his hand on the 
golden locks of little Alice, whose head had sunk down 
upon the arm of our illustrious chair. 

*' To bed, to bed, dear child ! " said he. " Grand- 
father has put you to sleep already by his stories about 

these FAMOUS OLD PEOPLE." 



APPENDIX TO PART II. 

ACCOUNT OF THE DEPORTATION OF THE ACADIANS. 

FROM " HALIBURTON'S HISTORICAL AND STATISTICAL 
ACCOUNT OF NOVA SCOTIA." 

At a consultation, held between Colonel Winslow 
and Captain Murray, [of the New England forces, 
charged with the duty of exiling the Acadians,] it was 
agreed that a proclamation should be issued at the 
different settlements, requiring the attendance of the 
people at the respective posts on the same day ; which 
proclamation should be so ambiguous in its nature 
that the object for which they were to assemble could 
not be discerned, and so peremptory in its terms as 
to ensure implicit obedience. This instrument, having 
been drafted and approved, was distributed according 
to the original plan. That which was addressed to 
the people inhabiting the country now comprised 
within the limits of King's County, was as follows : — 

" To the inhabitants of the District of Grand Pre, 
Minas, River Canard, &c. ; as well ancient, as 
young men and lads : 
"Whereas, his Excellency the Governor has in- 
structed us of his late resolution, respecting the matter 
proposed to the inhabitants, and has ordered us to 
communicate the same in person, his Excellency being 
desirous that each of them should be fully satisfied of 
his Majesty's intentions, which he has also ordered us 



APPENDIX TO PART 11. 143 

to communicate to yon, sncli as they have been given 
to him. We, therefore, order and strictly enjoin, by 
these presents, all of the inhabitants, as well of the 
above-named district as of all the other Districts, both 
old men and young men, as well as all the lads of ten 
years of age, to attend at the Church at Grand Pr^, 
on Friday, the fifth instant, at three of the clock in 
the afternoon, that we may impart to them what we 
are ordered to communicate to them ; declaring that 
no excuse will be admitted on any pretence whatever, 
on pain of forfeiting goods and chattels, in default of 
real estate. Given at Grand Pre, 2d September, 
1755, and 29th year of his Majesty's Reign. 

" JOHX WlXSLOW." 

In obedience to this summons four hundred and 
eighteen able-bodied men assembled. These being 
shut into the church (for that, too, had become an 
arsenal). Colonel Winslow placed himself, with his 
officers, in the centre, and addressed them thus : — 

" Gentlemen : 

" I have received from his Excellency Governor 
Lawrence, the King's Commission, which I have in 
my hand ; and by his orders you are convened together 
to manifest to you, his Majesty's final resolution to 
the French inhabitants of this his Province of Nova- 
Scotia ; who, for almost half a century, have had 
more indulgence granted them than any of his sub- 
jects in any part of his dominions ; what use you have 
made of it you yourselves best know. The part of 
duty I am now upon, though necessary, is very dis- 
agi-eeable to my natural make and temper, as I know 
it must be grievous to you, who are of the same 



144 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

species ; but it is not my business to animadvert but 
to obey such orders as I receive, and therefore, with- 
out hesitation, shall deliver you his Majesty's orders 
and instructions, namely — that your lands and tene- 
ments, cattle of all kinds and live stock of all sorts, 
are forfeited to the Crown ; with all other your effects, 
saving your money and household goods, and you 
yourselves to be removed from this his Province. 

" Thus it is peremptorily his Majesty's orders that 
the whole French inhabitants of these Districts be 
removed ; and I am, through his Majesty's goodness, 
directed to allow you liberty to carry off your money 
and household goods, as many as you can without dis- 
commoding the vessels you go in. I shall do every- 
thing in my power that all those goods be secured to 
you, and that you are not molested in carrying them 
off ; also, that whole families shall go in the same ves- 
sel, and make this remove, which I am sensible must 
give you a great deal of trouble, as easy as his Ma- 
jesty's service will admit ; and hope that, in whatever 
part of the world you may fall, you may be faithful 
subjects, a peaceable and happy people. I must also 
inform you, that it is his Majesty's pleasure that you 
remain in security under the inspection and direction 
of the troops that I have the honor to command." 

And he then declared them the King's prisoners. 
The whole number of persons collected at Grand Pre 
finally amounted to four hundred and eighty-three 
men, and three hundred and thirty-seven women, 
heads of families ; and their sons and daughters, to 
five hundred and twenty-seven of the former, and 
five hundred and seventy-six of the latter ; mak- 
ing in the whole one thousand nine hundred and 
twenty-three souls. Their stock consisted of one 



APPENDIX TO PART II. 145 

thousand two hundred and sixty-nine oxen, one thou- 
sand five hundred and fifty-seven cows, five thou- 
sand and seven young cattle, four hundred and ninety- 
three horses, eight thousand six hundred and ninety 
sheep, and four thousand one hundred and ninety- 
seven hogs. As some of these wretched inhabitants 
escaped to the woods, all possible measures were 
adopted to force them back to captivity. The country 
was laid waste to prevent their subsistence. In the 
District of Minas alone, there were destroyed two hun- 
dred and fifty-five houses, two hundred and seventy- 
six barns, one hundred and fifty-five outhouses, eleven 
mills, and one church ; and the friends of those who 
refused to surrender were threatened as the victims 
of their obstinacy. 

In short, so operative were the terrors that sur- 
rounded them, that of twenty-four young men, who 
deserted from a transport, twenty-two were glad to 
return of themselves, the others being shot by sen- 
tinels ; and one of their friends, who was supposed to 
have been accessory to their escape, was carried on 
shore to behold the destruction of his house and 
effects, which were burned in his j)i'esence, as a pun- 
ishment for his temerity and perfidious aid to his com- 
rades. The prisoners expressed the greatest concern 
at having incurred his Majesty's displeasure, and in a 
petition addressed to Colonel Winslow intreated him 
to detain a i^art of them as sureties for the appearance 
of the rest, who were desirous of visiting their fam- 
ilies, and consoling them in their distress and misfor- 
tunes. To comply with this request of holding a few 
as hostages for the surrender of the whole body, was 
deemed inconsistent with his instructions ; but, as 
there could be no objection to allow a small number 



146 GRANDFATHERS CHAIR. 

of them to return to their homes, permission was 
given to them to choose ten for the District of Minas 
(Horton) and ten for the District of Canard (Corn- 
wallis) to whom leave of absence was given for one 
day, and on whose return a similar number were in- 
dulged in the same manner. They bore their confine- 
ment, and received their sentence with a fortitude and 
resignation altogether unexpected ; but when the hour 
of embarkation arrived, in which they were to leave 
the land of their nativity forever — to part with their 
friends and relatives, without the hope of ever seeing 
them again, and to be dispersed among strangers, 
whose language, customs and religion were opposed 
to their own, the weakness of human nature pre- 
vailed, and they were overpowered with the sense of 
their miseries. The preparations having been all 
completed, the 10th of September was fixed upon as 
the day of departure. The prisoners were drawn up 
six deep, and the young men, one hundred and sixty- 
one in number, were ordered to go first on board of 
the vessels. This they instantly and peremptorily 
refused to do, declaring that they would not leave 
their parents ; but expressed a willingness to comply 
with the order, provided they were permitted to em- 
bark with their families. This request was immedi- 
ately rejected, and the troops were ordered to fix 
bayonets and advance towards the prisoners, a motion 
which had the effect of producing obedience on the 
part of the young men, who forthwith commenced 
their march. The road from the chapel to the shore, 
just one mile in length, was crowded with women and 
children ; who, on their knees, greeted them as they 
passed with their tears and their blessings, while the 
prisoners advanced with slow and reluctant steps, 



APPENDIX TO PART II. 147 

weeping, praying', and singing hymns. This detach- 
ment was followed by the seniors, who passed through 
the same scene of sorrow and distress. In this man- 
ner was the whole male part of the population of the 
District of Minas put on board the five transports, 
stationed in the river Gaspereaux, each vessel being 
guarded by six non-commissioned officers, and eighty 
privates. As soon as the other vessels arrived, their 
wives and children followed, and the whole were 
transported from Nova Scotia. The haste with which 
these measures were carried into execution did not 
admit of those preparations for their comfort, which, 
if unmerited by their disloyalty, were at least due in 
pity to the severity of their punishment. The hurry, 
confusion, and excitement connected with the em- 
barkation had scarcely subsided, when the Provin- 
cials were appalled by the work of their own hands. 
The novelty and peculiarity of their situation could 
not but force itself upon the attention of even the un- 
reflecting soldiery ; stationed in the midst of a beauti- 
ful and fertile country, they suddenly found themselves 
without a foe to subdue, and without a population to 
protect. The volumes of smoke which the half expir- 
ing embers emitted, while they marked the site of the 
peasant's humble cottage, bore testimony to the extent 
of the work of destruction. For several successive 
evenings the cattle assembled round the smouldering 
ruins, as if in anxious expectation of the return of 
their masters, while all night long the faithful watch- 
dogs of the Neutrals howled over the scene of desola- 
tion, and mourned alike the hand that had fed, and 
the house that had sheltered them. 



PART III. 

1763-1803. 

CHAPTER t 

A new-year's day. 

On the evening of New- Year's Day Grandfather 
was walking to and fro across the carpet, listening to 
the rain which beat hard against the curtained win- 
dows. The riotous blast shook the casement as if a 
strong man were striving to force his entrance into 
the comfortable room. With every puff of the wind 
the fire leaped upward from the hearth, laughing and 
rejoicing at the shrieks of the wintry storm. 

Meanwhile Grandfather's chair stood in its custom- 
ary place by the fireside. The bright blaze gleamed 
upon the fantastic figures of its oaken back, and shone 
through the oj^en work, so that a complete pattern was 
thrown upon the opposite side of the room. Some- 
times, for a moment or two, the shadow remained im- 
movable, as if it were painted on the wall. Then all 
at once it began to quiver, and leap, and dance with a 
frisky motion. Anon, seeming to remember that these 
antics were unworthy of such a dignified and venerable 
chair, it suddenly stood still. But soon it began to 
dance anew. 

" Only see how Grandfather's chair is dancing ! " 
cried little Alice. 

And she ran to the wall and tried to catch hold of 



150 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

the flickering shadow ; for, to children of ^yQ years 
old, a shadow seems almost as real as a substance. 

" I wish," said Clara, " Grandfather would sit down 
in the chair and finish its history." 

If the children had been looking at Grandfather, 
they would have noticed that he paused in his walk 
across the room when Clara made this remark. The 
kind old gentleman was ready and willing to resume 
his stories of departed times. But he had resolved to 
wait till his auditors should request him to proceed, in 
order that they might find the instructive history of 
the chair a pleasure, and not a task. 

" Grandfather," said Charley, " I am tired to death 
of this dismal rain and of hearing the wind roar in 
the chimney. I have had no good time all day. It 
would be better to hear stories about the chair than to 
sit doing nothing and thinking of nothing." 

To say the truth, our friend Charley was very much 
out of humor with the storm, because it had kept him 
all day within doors, and hindered him from making 
a trial of a splendid sled, which Grandfather had 
given him for a New-Year's gift. As all sleds, nowa- 
days, must have a name, the one in question had been 
honored ^vith the title of Grandfather's chair, which 
was painted in golden letters on each of the sides. 
Charley greatly admired the construction of the new 
vehicle, and felt certain that it would outstrip any 
other sled that ever dashed adown the long slopes of 
the Common. 

As for Laurence, he happened to be thinking, just 
at this moment, about the history of the chair. Kind 
old Grandfather had made him a present of a volume 
of engraved portraits, representing the features of em- 
inent and famous people of all countries. Among 



A NEW YEAR'S DAY. 151 

them Laurence found several wlio had formerly oc- 
cupied our chair or been connected with its adven- 
tures. While Grandfather walked to and fro across 
the room, the imaginative boy was gazing at the his- 
toric chair. He endeavored to summon up the por- 
traits which he had seen in his volume, and to place 
them, like living figures, in the empty seat. 

" The old chair has begun another year of its exist- 
ence, to-day," said Laurence. " We must make haste, 
or it will have a new history to be told before we 
finish the old one." 

" Yes, my children," replied Grandfather, with a 
smile and a sigh, " another year has been added to 
those of the two centuries and upward which have 
passed since the Lady Arbella brought this chair over 
from England. It is three times as old as your Grand- 
father ; but a year makes no impression on its oaken 
frame, while it bends the old man nearer and nearer 
to the earth ; so let me go on with my stories while I 
may." 

Accordingly Grandfather came to the fireside and 
seated himself in the venerable chair. The lion's head 
looked down with a grimly good-natured aspect as the 
children clustered around the old gentleman's knees. 
It almost seemed as if a real lion were peeping over 
the back of the chair, and smiling at the group of 
auditors with a sort of lion-like complaisance. Little 
Alice, whose fancy often ins2)ired her with singular 
ideas, exclaimed that the lion's head was nodding at 
her, and that it looked as if it were going to open its 
wide jaws and tell a story. 

But as the lion's head appeared to be in no haste to 
speak, and as there was no record or tradition of its 
having spoken during the whole existence of the chair, 
Grandfather did not consider it worth while to wait. 



CHAPTER II. 

THE STAMP ACT. 

" Charley, my boy," said Grandfather, " do you 
remember who was the last occupant of the chah- ? " 

"It was Lieutenant-Governor Hutchinson," an- 
swered Charley. " Sir Francis Bernard, the new gov- 
ernor, had given him the chair, instead of putting 
it away in the garret of the Province House. And 
when we took leave of Hutchinson he was sitting by 
his fireside, and thinking of the past adventures of 
the chair and of what was to come." 

"Very well," said Grandfather; "and you recol- 
lect that this was in 1763, or thereabouts, at the close 
of the old French War. Now, that you may fully 
comprehend the remaining adventures of the chair, I 
must make some brief remarks on the situation and 
character of the New England colonies at this period." 

So Grandfather spoke of the earnest loyalty of our 
fathers during the old French War, and after the con- 
quest of Canada had brought that war to a triumphant 
close. 

The people loved and reverenced the King of Eng- 
land even more than if the ocean had not rolled its 
waves between him and them ; for, at the distance of 
three thousand miles, they could not discover his bad 
qualities and imj^erf ections. Their love was increased 
by the dangers which they had encountered in order to 
heighten his glory and extend his dominion. Through- 



THE STAMP ACT. 153 

out the war the American colonists had fought side by 
side with the soldiers of Old England ; and nearly 
thirty thousand young men had laid down their lives 
for the honor of King George. And the survivors 
loved him the better because they had done and suf- 
fered so much for his sake. 

But there were some circumstances that caused 
America to feel more independent of England than 
at an earlier period. Canada and Acadia had now 
become British provinces ; and our fathers were no 
longer afraid of the bands of French and Indians who 
used to assault them in old times. For a century and 
a half this had been the great terror of New England. 
Now the old French soldier was driven from the North 
forever. And even had it been otherwise, the English 
colonies were growing so populous and powerful that 
they might have felt fully able to protect themselves 
without any help from England. 

There were thoughtful and sagacious men, who be- 
gan to doubt whether a great country like America 
would always be content to remain under the govern- 
ment of an island three thousand miles away. This 
was the more doubtfid, because the English Parlia- 
ment had long ago made laws which were intended to 
be very beneficial to England at the expense of Amer- 
ica. By these laws the colonists were forbidden to 
manufacture articles for their own use, or to carry on 
trade with any nation but the English. 

" Now," continued Grandfather, " if King George 
III. and his counsellors had considered these things 
wisely, they would have taken another course than 
they did. But when they saw how rich and populous 
the colonies had grown, their first thought was how 
they might make more profit out of them than hereto- 



154 • GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 



fore. England was enormously in debt at the close 
of the old French War ; and it was pretended that this 
debt had been contracted for the defence of the Amer- 
ican colonies, and that, therefore, a part of it ought to 
be paid by them." 

" Why, this was nonsense ! " exclaimed Charley. 
" Did not our fathers spend their lives, and their 
money too, to get Canada for King George ? " 

" True, they did," said Grandfather ; " and they 
told the English rulers so. But the king and his min- 
isters would not listen to good advice. In 1765 the 
British Parliament passed a Stamp Act." 

"What was that?" inquired Charley. 

"The Stamp Act," replied Grandfather, "was a 
law by which all deeds, bonds, and other papers of 
the same kind were ordered to be marked with the 
king's stamp ; and without this mark they were de- 
clared illegal and void. Now, in order to get a blank 
sheet of paper with the king's stamp upon it, people 
were obliged to pay threepence more than the actual 
value of the paper. And this extra sum of threepence 
was a tax, and was to be paid into the king's treas- 
ury." 

" I am sure threepence was not worth quarrelling 
about ! " remarked Clara. 

" It was not for threepence, nor for any amount of 
money, that America quarrelled with England," re- 
plied Grandfather ; " it was for a great principle. The 
colonists were determined not to be taxed except by 
their own representatives. They said that neither the 
king and Parliament, nor any other power on earth, 
had a right to take their money out of their pockets 
unless they freely gave it. And, rather than pay 
threepence when it was unjustly demanded, they re- 



\ 



THE STAMP ACT. 155 

solved to sacrifice all the wealth of the country, and 
their lives along with it. They therefore made a most 
stubborn resistance to the Stamp Act." 

'" That was noble ! " exclaimed Laurence. " I un- 
derstand how it was. If they had quietly paid the tax 
of threepence, they would have ceased to be freemen, 
and would have become tributaries of England. And 
so they contended about a great question of right and 
wrong, and put everything at stake for it." 

" You are right, Laurence," said Grandfather, " and 
it was really amazing and terrible to see what a change 
came over the aspect of the people the moment the 
English Parliament had passed this oppressive act. 
The former history of our chair, my children, has 
given you some idea of what a harsh, unyielding, stern 
set of men the old Puritans were. For a good many 
years back, however, it had seemed as if these charac- 
teristics were disappearing. But no sooner did Eng- 
land offer wrong to the colonies than the descendants 
of the early settlers proved that they had the same 
kind of temper as their forefathers. The moment be- 
fore. New England appeared like a humble and loyal 
subject of the crown ; the next instant, she showed 
the grim, dark features of an old king-resisting Puri- 
tan." 

Grandfather spoke briefly of the public measures 
that were taken in opposition to the Stamp Act. As 
this law affected all the American colonies alike, it 
naturally led them to think of consulting together in 
order to procure its repeal. ^For this purpose the Leg- 
islature of Massachusetts proposed that delegates from 
every colony should meet in Congress. Accordingly 
nine colonies, both Northern and Southern, sent dele- 
gates to the city of New York. 



156 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

"And did they consult about going to war with 
England?" asked Charley. 

" No, Charley," answered Grandfather ; "a great 
deal of talking was yet to be done before England 
and America could come to blows. The Cono^ress 
stated the rights and grievances of the colonists. They 
sent a humble petition to the king, and a memorial to 
the Parliament, beseeching that the Stamp Act might 
be repealed. This was all that the delegates had it 
in their power to do." 

" They might as well have stayed at home, then," 
said Charley. 

" By no means," replied Grandfather. " It was a 
most important and memorable event, this first com- 
ing together of the American people by their repre- 
sentatives from the North and South. If England 
had been wise, she would have trembled at the first 
word that was spoken in such an assembly." 

These remonstrances and petitions, as Grandfather 
observed, were the work of grave, thoughtful, and pru- 
dent men. Meantime the young and hot-headed peo- 
ple went to work in their own way. It is probable 
that the petitions of Congress would have had little or 
no effect on the British statesmen if the violent deeds 
of the American peoj^le had not shown how much ex- 
cited the people were. Liberty Tree was soon heard 
of in England. 

" What was Liberty Tree ? " inquired Clara. 

" It was an old elm-tree," answered Grandfather, 
" which stood near the corner of Essex Street, op- 
posite the Boylston Market. Under the spreading 
branches of this great tree the people used to assemble 
whenever they wished to express their feelings and 
opinions. Thus, after a while, it seemed as if the lib- 
erty of the country was connected with Liberty Tree." 




^1 



c 2 

8< 






THE STAMP ACT. 



157 



" It was glorious fruit for a tree to bear," remarked 
Laurence. 

" It bore strange fruit, sometimes," said Grand- 
father. " One morning in August, 1765, two figures 
were found banging on the sturdy branches of Liberty 
Tree. They were dressed in square-skirted coats and 
small-clothes ; and, as their wigs hung down over their 
faces, they looked like real men. One was intended 
to represent the Earl of Bute, who was supposed to 
have advised the king to tax America. The other was 
meant for the effigy of Andrew Oliver, a gentleman 
belonging to one of the most respectable families in 
Massachusetts." 

*' What harm had he done ? " inquired Charley. 

" The king had appointed him to be distributor 
of the stamps," answered Grandfather. " Mr. Oli- 
ver would have made a great deal of money by this 
business. But the people frightened him so much 
by hanging him in effigy, and afterwards by break- 
ing into his house, that he promised to have nothing 
to do with the stamps. And all the king's friends 
throughout America were compelled to make the same 
promise." 




CHAPTER III. 

THE HUTCHINSON MOB. 

" Lieutenant-Governor Hutchinson," continued 
Grandfather, " now began to be unquiet in our old 
chair. He had formerly been much respected and be- 
loved by the people, and had often proved himself a 
friend to their interests. But the time was come 
when he could not be a friend to the people without 
ceasing to be a friend to the king. It was pretty 
generally imder stood that Hutchinson would act ac- 
cording to the king's wishes, right or wrong, like 
most of the other gentlemen who held offices under 
the crown. Besides, as he was brother-in-law of 
Andrew Oliver, the people now felt a particular dis- 
like to him." 

" I should think," said Laurence, " as Mr. Hutch- 
inson had written the history of our Puritan fore- 
fathers, he would have known what the temper of the 
people was, and so have taken care not to wrong 
them." 

" He trusted in the might of the King of England," 
replied Grandfather, '' and thought himself safe under 
the shelter of the throne. If no dispute had arisen 
between the king and the people, Hutchinson would 
have had the character of a wise, good, and patriotic 
magistrate. But, from the time that he took part 
against the rights of his country, the people's love and 
respect were turned to scorn and hatred, and he never 
had another hour of peace." 



THE HUTCHINSON MOB, 159 

In order to show what a fierce and dangerous spirit 
was now aroused among the inhabitants, Grandfather 
related a passage from history which we shall call The 
Hutchinson Mob. 

On the evening of the 26th of August, 1765, a bon- 
fire was kindled in King Street. It flamed high up- 
ward, and threw a ruddy light over the front of the 
Town House, on which was displayed a carved repre- 
sentation of the royal arms. The gilded vane of the 
cupola glittered in the blaze. The kindling of this 
bonfire was the well-known signal for the populace of 
Boston to assemble in the street. 

Before the tar-barrels, of which the bonfire was 
made, were half burned out, a great crowd had come 
together. They were chiefly laborers and seafaring 
men, together with many young apprentices, and all 
those idle people about town who are ready for any 
kind of mischief. Doubtless some school-boys were 
among them. 

While these rough figures stood round the blazing 
bonfire, you might hear them speaking bitter words 
against the high officers of the province. Governor 
Bernard, Hutchinson, Oliver, Storey, Hallowell, and 
other men whom King George delighted to honor, 
were reviled as traitors to the country. Now and 
then, perhaps, an officer of the crown passed along 
the street, wearing the gold-laced hat, white wig, and 
embroidered waistcoat which were the fashion of the 
day. But when the people beheld him they set up a 
wild and angry howl ; and their faces had an evil as- 
pect, which was made more terrible by the flickering 
blaze of the bonfire. 

" I should like to throw the traitor right into that 
blaze ! " perhaps one fierce rioter would say. 



160 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

"Yes; and all his brethren too! "another might 
reply ; " and the governor and old Tommy Hut chin 
son into the hottest of it ! " 

" And the Earl of Bute along with them ! " mut 
tered a third ; " and burn the whole pack of them 
under King George's nose ! No matter if it singed 
him ! " 

Some such expressions as these, either shouted aloud 
or muttered under the breath, were doubtless heard in 
King Street. The mob, meanwhile, were growing 
fiercer and fiercer, and seemed ready even to set the 
town on fire for the sake of burning the king's friends 
out of house and home. And yet, angry as they were, 
they sometimes broke into a loud roar of laughter, as 
if mischief and destruction were their sport. 

But we must now leave the rioters for a time, and 
take a peep into the lieutenant-governor's splendid 
mansion. It was a large brick house, decorated with 
Ionic pilasters, and stood in Garden Court Street, near 
the North Square. 

While the angry mob in King Street were shouting 
his name, Lieutenant-Governor Hutchinson sat quietly 
in Grandfather's chair, unsuspicious of the evil that 
was about to fall upon his head. His beloved family 
were in the room with him. He had thrown off his 
embroidered coat and powdered wig, and had on a 
loose-flowing gown and purple-velvet cap. He had 
likewise laid aside the cares of state and all the 
thoughts that had wearied and perplexed him through- 
out the day. 

Perhaps, in the enjoyment of his home, he had for- 
gotten all about the Stamp Act, and scarcely remem- 
bered that there was a king, across the ocean, who had 
resolved to make tributaries of the New-Englanders. 






THE HUTCHINSON MOB. 161 

Possibly, too, lie had forgotten his own ambition, and 
would not have exchanged his situation, at that mo- 
ment, to be governor, or even a lord. 

The wax candles were now lighted, and showed a 
handsome room, well provided with rich furniture. 
On the walls hung the pictures of Hutchinson's ances- 
tors, who had been eminent men in their day, and were 
honorably remembered in the history of the country. 
Every object served to mark the residence of a rich, 
aristocratic gentleman, who held himself high above 
the common people, and could have nothing to fear 
from them. In a corner of the room, thrown care- 
lessly upon a chair, were the scarlet robes of the chief 
justice. This high office, as well as those of lieuten- 
ant-governor, councillor, and judge of probate, was 
filled by Hutchinson. 

Who or what could disturb the domestic quiet of 
such a great and powerful personage as now sat in 
Grandfather's chair ? 

The lieutenant-governor's favorite daughter sat by 
his side. She leaned on the arm of our great chair, 
and looked up affectionately into her father's face, re- 
joicing to perceive that a quiet smile was on his lips. 
But suddenly a shade came across her countenance. 
She seemed to listen attentively, as if to catch a dis- 
tant sound. 

" What is the matter, my child ? " inquired Hutch- 
inson. 

" Father, do not you hear a tumult in the streets ? " 
said she. 

The lieutenant-governor listened. But his ears were 
duller than those of his daughter ; he could hear no- 
thing more terrible than the sound of a summer breeze, 
sighing among the tops of the elm-trees. 



162 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 



" No, foolish child ! " he replied, playfully patting 
her cheek. " There is no tumult. Our Boston mobs 
are satisfied with what mischief they have already 
done. The king's friends need not tremble." 

So Hutchinson resumed his pleasant and peaceful 
meditations, and again forgot that there were any 
troubles in the world. But his family were alarmed, 
and could not hel}) straining their ears to catch the 
slightest sound. More and more distinctly they heard 
shouts, and then the trampling of many feet. While 
they were listening, one of the neighbors rushed 
breathless into the room. 

" A mob ! a terrible mob ! " cried he. " They have 
broken into Mr. Storey's house, and into Mr. Hallo- 
well's, and have made themselves drunk with the 
liquors in his cellar ; and now they are coming hither, 
as wild as so many tigers. Flee, lieutenant-governor, 
for your life ! for your life ! " 

" Father, dear father, make haste ! " shrieked his 
children. 

But Hutchinson would not hearken to them. He 
was an old lawyer ; and he could not realize that the 
people would do anything so utterly lawless as to as- 
sault him in his peaceful home. He was one of King 
George's chief officers ; and it would be an insult and 
outrage upon the king himself if the lieutenant-gov- 
ernor should suffer any wrong. 

" Have no fears on my account," said he. " I am 
perfectly safe. The king's name shall be my protec- 
tion." 

Yet he bade his family retire into one of the neigh- 
boring houses. His daughter would have remained ; 
but he forced her away. 

The huzzas and riotous uproar of the mob were now 



1 



THE HUTCHINSON MOB. 163 

heard, close at hand. The sound was terrible, and 
struck Hutchinson with the same sort of dread as if 
an enraged wild beast had broken loose and were roar- 
ing for its prey. He crept softly to the window. 
There he beheld an immense concourse of people, fill- 
ing all the street and rolling onward to his house. It 
was like a tempestuous flood, that had swelled beyond 
its bounds and would sweep everything before it. 
Hutchinson trembled ; he felt, at that moment, that 
the wrath of the people was a thousand-fold more ter- 
rible than the wrath of a king. 

That was a moment when a loyalist and an aristo- 
crat like Hutchinson might have learned how power- 
less are kings, nobles, and great men, when the low 
and humble range themselves against them. King 
George could do nothing for his servant now. Had 
King George been there he could have done nothing 
for himself. If Hutchinson had understood this les- 
son, and remembered it, he need not, in after years, 
have been an exile from his native coimtry, nor finally 
have laid his bones in a distant land. 

There was now a rush against the doors of the 
house. The people sent up a hoarse cry. At this in- 
stant the lieutenant-governor's daughter, whom he had 
supposed to be in a place of safety, ran into the room 
and threw her arms around him. She had returned 
by a private entrance. 

" Father, are you mad ? " cried she. " WiU the 
king's name protect you now? Come with me, or 
they will have your life." 

" True," muttered Hutchinson to himself ; " what 
care these roarers for the name of king ? I must flee, 
or they will trample me down on the floor of my own 
dwelling." 



164 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

Hurrying away, he and his daughter made their es- 
cape by the private passage at the moment when the 
rioters broke into the house. The foremost of them 
rushed up the staircase, and entered the room which 
Hutchinson had just quitted. There they beheld our 
good okl chair facing them with quiet dignity, while 
the lion's head seemed to move its jaws in the unsteady 
light of their torches. Perhaps the stately aspect of 
our venerable friend, which had stood firm through a 
century and a half of trouble, arrested them for an 
instant. But they were thrust forward by those be- 
hind, and the chair lay overthrown. 

Then began the work of destruction. The carved 
and polished mahogany tables were shattered with 
heavy clubs and hewn to splinters with axes. The 
marble hearths and mantel-pieces were broken. The 
volumes of Hutchinson's library, so precious to a stu- 
dious man, were torn out of their covers, and the 
leaves sent flying out of the windows. Manuscripts, 
containing secrets of our country's history, which are 
now lost forever, were scattered to the winds. 

The old ancestral portraits, whose fixed counte- 
nances looked down on the wild scene, were rent from 
the walls. The mob triumphed in their downfall and 
destruction, as if these pictures of Hutchinson's fore- 
fathers had committed the same offences as their de- 
scendant. A tall looking-glass, which had hitherto 
presented a reflection of the enraged and drunken 
multitude, was now smashed into a thousand frag- 
ments. We gladly dismiss the scene from the mirror 
of our fancy. 

Before morning dawned the walls of the house were 
all that remained. The interior was a dismal scene of 
ruin. A shower pattered in at the broken windows ; 



THE HUTCHINSON MOB. 165 

and when Hutchinson and his family returned, they 
stood shivering in the same room where the last even- 
ing had seen them so peaceful and happy. ^ 

" Grandfather," said Laurence, indignantly, " if 
the people acted in this manner, they were not worthy 
of even so much liberty as the King of England was 
willing to allow them." 

" It was a most unjustifiable act, like many other 
popular movements at that time," replied Grandfather. 
" But we must not decide against the justice of the 
people's cause merely because an excited mob was 
guilty of outrageous violence. Besides, all these 
things were done in the first fury of resentment. Af- 
terwards the people grew more calm, and were more 
influenced by the counsel of those wise and good men 
who conducted them safely and gloriously through the 
Revolution." 

Little Alice, with tears in her blue eyes, said that 
she hoped the neighbors had not let Lieutenant-Gov- 
ernor Hutchinson and his family be homeless in the 
street, but had taken them into their houses and been 
kind to them. Cousin Clara, recollecting the jjerilous 
situation of our beloved chair, inquired what had be- 
come of it. 

"Nothing was heard of our chair for some time 
afterwards," answered Grandfather. " One day in 
September, the same Andrew Oliver, of whom I 
before told you, was summoned to appear at high 
noon under Liberty Tree. This was the strangest 
summons that had ever been heard of ; for it was 
issued in the name of the whole people, who thus took 
upon themselves the authority of a sovereign power. 

1 Hutchinson's own accoinit of the destruction of his house is 
so graphic that we give it in the appendix, page 223. 



166 GRANDFATHERS CHAIR. 

Mr. Oliver dared not disobey. Accordingly, at the 
ai3pointed hour he went, much against his will, to 
Liberty Tree." 

Here Charley interposed a remark that poor Mr. 
Oliver found but little liberty under Liberty Tree. 
Grandfather assented. 

"It was a stormy day," continued he. "The equi- 
noctial gale blew violently, and scattered the yellow 
leaves of Liberty Tree all along the street. Mr. Oli- 
ver's wig was dripping with water - drops ; and he 
probably looked haggard, disconsolate, and humbled 
to the earth. Beneath the tree, in Grandfather's 
chair, — our own venerable chair, — sat Mr. Richard 
Dana, a justice of the peace. He administered an 
oath to Mr. Oliver that he would never have anything 
to do with distributing the stamps. A vast concourse 
of people heard the oath, and shouted when it was 
taken." 

" There is something grand in this," said Laurence. 
" I like it, because the people seem to have acted with 
thoughtfulness and dignity ; and this proud gentleman, 
one of his Majesty's high officers, was made to feel 
that King George could not protect him in doing 
wrong." 

" But it was a sad day for poor Mr. Oliver," ob- 
served Grandfather. " From his youth upward it had 
probably been the great principle of his life to be 
faithful and obedient to the king. And now, in his 
old age, it must have puzzled and distracted him to 
find the sovereign people setting up a claim to his 
faith and obedience." 

Grandfather closed the evening's conversation by 
saying that the discontent of America was so great, 
that, in 1766, the British Parliament was compelled 



THE HUTCHINSON MOB. 1G7 

to rei)eal the Stamp Act. The people made great 
rejoicings, but took care to keep Liberty Tree well 
l)rimed and free from caterpillars and canker-worms. 
They foresaw that there might yet be occasion for 
them to assemble under its far-projecting shadow. 



CHAPTER IV. 

THE BRITISH TROOPS IN BOSTON. 

The next evening, Clara, who remembered that our 
chair had been left standing in the rain under Liberty 
Tree, earnestly besought Grandfather to tell when and 
where it had next found slielter. Perhaps she was 
afraid that the venerable chair, by being exposed to 
the inclemency of a September gale, might get the 
rheumatism in its aged joints. 

" The chair," said Grandfather, " after the ceremony 
of Mr. Oliver's oath, appears to have been quite for- 
gotten by the multitude. Indeed, being much bruised 
and rather rickety, owing to the violent treatment it 
had suffered from the Hutchinson mob, most people 
would have thought that its days of usefulness were 
over. Nevertheless, it was conveyed away under cover 
of the night and committed to the care of a skilful 
joiner. He doctored our old friend so successfully, 
that, in the course of a few days, it made its appear- 
ance in the public room of the British Coffee House, 
in King Street." 

" But why did not Mr. Hutchinson get possession 
of it again ? " inquired Charley. 

" I know not," answered Grandfather, " unless he 
considered it a dishonor and disgrace to the chair to 
have stood under Liberty Tree. At all events, he suf- 
fered it to remain at the British Coffee House, which 
was the principal hotel in Boston. It could not pos- 



THE BRITISH TROOPS IN BOSTON. 169 

sibly have found a situation where it would be more 
in the midst of business and bustle, or would witness 
more important events, or be occupied by a greater 
variety of persons." 

Grandfather went on to tell the proceedings of the 
despotic king and ministry of England after the repeal 
of the Stamp Act. They coidd not bear to think that 
their right to tax America should be disputed by the 
people. In the year 1767, therefore, they caused Par- 
liament to pass an act for laying a duty on tea and 
some other articles that were in general use. Nobody 
could now buy a pound of tea without paying a tax to 
King George. This scheme was pretty craftily con- 
trived ; for the women of America were very fond of 
tea, and did not like to give up the use of it. 

But the people were as much opposed to this new 
act of Parliament as they had been to the Stamp Act. 
England, however, was determined that they should 
submit. In order to compel their obedience, two reg- 
iments, consisting of more than seven hundred British 
soldiers, were sent to Boston. They arrived in Sep- 
tember, 1768, and were landed on Long Wharf. 
Thence they marched to the Common with loaded 
muskets, fixed bayonets, and great pomp and parade. 
So now, at last, the free town of Boston was guarded 
and overawed by redcoats as it had been in the days 
of old Sir Edmund Andros. 

In the month of November more regiments arrived. 
There were now four thousand troops in Boston. The 
Common was whitened with their tents. Some of the 
soldiers were lodged in Faneuil Hall, which the inhab- 
itants looked upon as a consecrated place, because it 
had been the scene of a great many meetings in favor 
of liberty. One regiment was placed in the Town 



170 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

House, whicli we now call the Old State House. The 
lower floor of this edifice had hitherto been used by 
the merchants as an exchange. In the upper stories 
were the chambers of the judges, the representatives, 
and the governor's council. The venerable councillors 
could not assemble to consult about the welfare of the 
province without being challenged by sentinels and 
passing among the bayonets of the British soldiers. 

Sentinels likewise were posted at the lodgings of 
the officers in many parts of the town. When the 
inhabitants approached they were greeted by the sharp 
question, '' Who goes there ? " while the rattle of the 
soldier's musket was heard as he presented it against 
their breasts. There was no quiet even on the sab- 
bath day. The quiet descendants of the Puritans 
were shocked by the uproar of military music ; the 
drum, fife, and bugle drowning the holy organ peal 
and the voices of the singers. It would appear as if 
the British took every method to insult the feelings of 
the people. 

" Grandfather," cried Charley, impatiently, '' the 
people did not go to fighting half soon enough ! These 
British redcoats ought to have been driven back to 
their vessels the very moment they landed on Long 
Wharf." 

" Many a hot-headed young man said the same as 
you do, Charley," answered Grandfather. " But the 
elder and wiser people saw that the time was not yet 
come. Meanwhile, let us take another peep at our old 
chair." 

" Ah, it drooped its head, I know," said Charley, 
*' when it saw how the province was disgraced. Its 
old Puritan friends never would have borne such do- 
ings." 



THE BRITISH TROOPS IN BOSTON. 171 

"The chair," proceeded Grandfather, "was now 
continually occupied by some of the high tories, as 
the king's friends were called, who frequented the 
British Coffee House. Officers of the Custom House, 
too, which stood on the opposite side of King Street, 
often sat in the chair wagging their tongues against 
eTohn Hancock." 

" Why against him ? " asked Charley. 

" Because he was a great merchant and contended 
against paying duties to the king," said Grandfather. 

'' Well, frequently, no doubt, the officers of the 
British regiments, when not on duty, used to fling 
themselves into the arms of our venerable chair. 
Fancy one of them, a red-nosed captain in his scarlet 
uniform, playing with the hilt of his sword, and mak- 
ing a circle of his brother officers merry with ridicu- 
lous jokes at the expense of the poor Yankees. And 
perhaps he would call for a bottle of wine, or a steam- 
ing bowl of punch, and drink confusion to all rebels." 

" Our grave old chair must have been scandalized 
at such scenes," observed Laurence ; " the chair that 
had been the Lady Arbella's, and which the holy 
apostle Eliot had consecrated." 

" It certainly was little less than sacrilege," replied 
Grandfather ; " but the time was coming when even 
the churches, where hallowed pastors had long preached 
the word of God, were to be torn down or desecrated 
by the British troops. Some years passed, however, 
before such things were done." 

Grandfather now told his auditors that, in 1769, Sir 
Francis Bernard went to England after having been 
governor of Massachusetts ten years. He was a gentle- 
man of many good qualities, an excellent scholar, and 
a friend to learning. But he was naturally of an ar- 



172 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

bitrary disposition ; and he had been bred at the Uni- 
versity of Oxford, where young men were taught that 
the divine right of kings was the only thing to be re- 
garded in matters of government. Such ideas were ill 
adapted to please the people of Massachusetts. They 
rejoiced to get rid of Sir Francis Bernard, but liked 
his successor, Lieutenant-Governor Hutchinson, no 
better than himself. 

About this period the people were much incensed at 
an act committed by a person who held an office in 
the Custom House. Some lads, or young men, were 
snowballing his windows. He fired a musket at them, 
and killed a poor German boy,' only eleven years old. 
This event made a great noise in town and country, 
and much increased the resentment that was already 
felt against the servants of the crown. 

''Now, children," said Grandfather, "I wish to 
make you comprehend the position of the British 
troops in King Street. This is the same which we 
now call State Street. On the south side of the Town 
House, or Old State House, was what military men 
call a court of guard, defended by two brass cannons, 
which pointed directly at one of the doors of the above 
edifice. A large party of soldiers were always sta- 
tioned in the court of guard. The Custom House 
stood at a little distance down King Street, nearly 
where the Suffolk Bank now stands, and a sentinel 
was continually pacing before its front." 

" I shall remember this to-morrow," said Charley ; 
" and I will go to State Street, so as to see exactly 
where the British troops were stationed." 

" And before long," observed Grandfather, " I shall 
have to relate an event which made King Street sadly 
famous on both sides of the Atlantic. The history of 



THE BRITISH TROOPS IN BOSTON. 173 

our chair will soon bring us to this melancholy busi- 
ness." 

Here Grandfather described the state of things 
which arose from the ill will that existed between the 
inhabitants and the redcoats. The old and sober part 
of the townspeople were very angry at the government 
for sending soldiers to overawe them. But those gray- 
headed men were cautious, and kept their thoughts 
and feelings in their own breasts, without putting 
themselves in the way of the British bayonets. 

The younger people, however, could hardly be kept 
within such prudent limits. They reddened with wrath 
at the very sight of a soldier, and would have been 
willing to come to blows with them at any moment. 
For it was their opinion that every tap of a British 
drum within the peninsula of Boston was an insult to 
the brave old town. 

"It was sometimes the case," continued Grand- 
father, "that affrays happened between such wild 
young men as these and small parties of the soldiers. 
No weapons had hitherto been used except fists or 
cudgels. But when men have loaded muskets in their 
hands, it is easy to foretell that they will soon be 
turned against the bosoms of those who provoke their 
anger." 

" Grandfather," said little Alice, looking fearfully 
into his face, " your voice sounds as though you were 
going to tell us something awful I " 



CHAPTER V. 

THE BOSTON MASSACRE. 

Little Alice, by her last remark, proved herself a 
good judge of what was expressed by the tones of 
Grandfather's voice. He had given the above descrip- 
tion of the enmity between the townspeople and the 
soldiers in order to prepare the minds of his auditors 
for a very terrible event. It was one that did more 
to heighten the quarrel between England and Amer- 
ica than anything that had yet occurred. 

Without further preface. Grandfather began the 
story of the Boston Massacre. 

It was now the 3d of March, 1770. The sunset 
music of the British regiments was heard as usual 
throughout the town. The shrill fife and rattling drum 
awoke the echoes in King Street, while the last ray of 
sunshine was lingering on the cupola of the Town 
House. And now all the sentinels were posted. One 
of them marched up and down before the Custom 
House, treading a short path through the snow, and 
longing for the time when he would be dismissed to 
the warm fireside of the guard room. Meanwhile 
Captain Preston was, perhaps, sitting in our great 
chair before the hearth of the British Coffee House. 
In the course of the evening there were two or three 
slight commotions, which seemed to indicate that 
trouble was at hand. Small parties of young men 
stood at the corners of the streets or walked along the 



THE BOSTON MASSACRE. 175 

narrow pavements. Squads of soldiers who were dis- 
missed from duty passed by them, shoulder to shoul- 
der, with the regular step which they had learned at 
the drill. Whenever these encounters took place, it 
appeared to be the object of the young men to treat 
the soldiers with as much incivility as possible. 

" Turn out, you lobsterbacks ! " one would say. 
" Crowd them off the sidewalks I " another would cry. 
" A redcoat has no right in Boston streets ! " 

*' O, you rebel rascals ! " perhaps the soldiers would 
reply, glaring fiercely at the young men. " Some day 
or other we'll make our way through Boston streets at 
the point of the bayonet ! " 

Once or twice such disputes as these brought on a 
scuffle ; which passed off, however, without attracting 
much notice. About eight o'clock, for some unknown 
cause, an alarm-bell rang loudly and hurriedly. 

At the sound many people ran out of their houses, 
supposing it to be an alarm of fire. But there were 
no flames to be seen, nor was there any smell of smoke 
in the clear, frosty air ; so that most of the townsmen 
went back to their own firesides and sat talking with 
their wives and children about the calamities of the 
times. Others who were younger and less prudent re- 
mained in the streets ; for there seems to have been a 
presentiment that some strange event was on the eve 
of taking place. 

Later in the evening, not far from nine o'clock, sev- 
eral young men passed by the Town House and walked 
down King Street. The sentinel was still on his post 
in front of the Custom House, pacing to and fro ; 
while, as he turned, a gleam of light from some neigh- 
boring window glittered on the barrel of his musket. 
At no great distance were the barracks and the guard- 



176 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

house, where his comrades were probably telling stories 
of battle and bloodshed. 

Down towards the Custom House, as I told you, 
came a party of wild young men. When they drew 
near the sentinel he halted on his post, and took his 
musket from his shoulder, ready to present the bayonet 
at their breasts. 

" Who goes there ? " he cried, in the gruff, peremp- 
tory tones of a soldier's challenge. 

The young men, being Boston boys, felt as if they 
had a right to walk their own streets without being ac- 
countable to a British redcoat, even though he chal- 
lenged them in King George's name. They made 
some rude answer to the sentinel. There was a dis- 
pute, or perhaps a scuffle. Other soldiers heard the 
noise, and ran hastily from the barracks to assist their 
comrades. At the same time many of the townspeople 
rushed into King Street by various avenues, and gath- 
ered in a crowd round about the Custom House. It 
seemed wonderful how such a multitude had started 
up all of a sudden. 

The wrongs and insults which the people had been 
suffering for many months now kindled them into a 
rage. They threw snowballs and lumps of ice at the 
soldiers. As the tumult grew louder it reached the 
ears of Captain Preston, the officer of the day. He 
immediately ordered eight soldiers of the main guard 
to take their muskets and follow him. They marched 
across the street, forcing their way roughly through 
the crowd, and pricking the townspeople with their 
bayonets. 

A gentleman (it was Henry Knox, afterwards gen- 
eral of the American artillery) caught Captain Pres- 
ton's arm. 



THE BOSTON MASSACRE. 177 

" For Heaven's sake, sir," exclaimed he, " take heed 
what you do, or there will be bloodshed." 

" Stand aside ! " answered Captain Preston, haugh- 
tily. " Do not interfere, sir. Leave me to manage the 
affair." 

Arriving at the sentinel's post. Captain Preston 
drew up his men in a semicircle, with their faces to 
the crowd and their rear to the Custom House. When 
the people saw the officer and beheld the threatening 
attitude with which the soldiers fronted them, their 
rage became almost uncontrollable. 

" Fire, you lobsterbacks ! " bellowed some. 

" You dare not fire, you cowardly redcoats ! " cried 
others. 

" Rush upon them ! " shouted many voices. " Drive 
the rascals to their barracks ! Down with them ! 
Down with them ! Let them fire if they dare I " 

Amid the uproar, the soldiers stood glaring at the 
people with the fierceness of men whose trade was to 
shed blood. 

Oh, what a crisis had now arrived ! Up to this 
very moment, the angry feelings between England and 
America might have been pacified. England had but 
to stretch out the hand of reconciliation, and acknowl- 
edge that she had hitherto mistaken her rights, but 
would do so no more. Then the ancient bonds of 
brotherhood would again have been knit together as 
firmly as in old times. The habit of loyalty, which 
had grown as strong as instinct, was not utterly over- 
come. The perils shared, the victories won, in the old 
French War, when the soldiers of the colonies fought 
side by side with their comrades from beyond the sea, 
were unf orgotten yet. England was still that beloved 
country which the colonists called their home. King 



178 GRANDFATHERS CHAIR. 

George, though he had frowned upon America, was 
still reverenced as a father. 

But should the king's soldiers shed one drop of 
American blood, then it was a quarrel to the death. 
Never, never would America rest satisfied until she 
had torn down the royal authority and trampled it in 
the dust. 

" Fire, if you dare, villains ! " hoarsely shouted the 
people, while the muzzles of the muskets were turned 
upon them. " You dare not fire ! " 

They appeared ready to rush upon the levelled bay- 
onets. Captain Preston waved his sword, and uttered 
a command which could not be distinctly heard amid 
the uproar of shouts that issued from a hundred throats. 
But his soldiers deemed that he had spoken the fatal 
mandate, " Fire I " The flash of their muskets lighted 
up the streets, and the report rang loudly between the 
edifices. It was said, too, that the figure of a man, 
with a cloth hanging down over his face, was seen to 
step into the balcony of the Custom House and dis- 
charge a musket at the crowd. 

A gush of smoke had overspread the scene. It rose 
heavily, as if it were loath to reveal the dreadful spec- 
tacle beneath it. Eleven of the sons of New England 
lay stretched upon the street. Some, sorely wounded, 
were struggling to rise again. Others stirred not nor 
groaned ; for they were past all pain. Blood was 
streaming upon the snow; and that purple stain in 
the midst of King Street, though it melted away in the 
next day's sun, was never forgotten nor forgiven by 
the people. 

Grandfather was interrupted by the violent sobs of 
little Alice. In his earnestness he had neo:lected to 



THE BOSTON MASSACRE. 179 

soften down the narrative so that it might not terrify 
the heart of this unworldly infant. Since Grandfather 
began the history of our chair, little Alice had listened 
to many tales of war. But probably the idea had 
never really impressed itself upon her mind that men 
have shed the blood of their fellow-creatures. And 
now that this idea was forcibly presented to her, it 
affected the sweet child with bewilderment and horror. 

" I ought to have remembered our dear little Alice," 
said Grandfather reproachfully to himself. " Oh, what 
a pity ! Her heavenly nature has now received its first 
impression of earthly sin and violence. Well, Clara, 
take her to bed and comfort her. Heaven grant that 
she may dream away the recollection of the Boston 
massacre ! " « 

" Grandfather," said Charley, when Clara and little 
Alice had retired, " did not the people rush upon the 
soldiers and take revenge ? " 

"The town drums beat to arms," replied Grand- 
father, " the alarm-bells rang, and an immense multi- 
tude rushed into King Street. Many of them had 
weapons in their hands. The British prepared to de- 
fend themselves. A whole regiment was drawn up 
in the street, expecting an attack ; for the townsmen 
appeared ready to throw themselves upon the bayo- 
nets." 

"And how did it end?" 

*" Governor Hutchinson hurried to the spot," said 
Grandfather, "and besought the people to have pa- 
tience, promising that strict justice should be done. 
A day or two afterward the British troops were with- 
drawn from town and stationed at Castle AVilliam. 
Captain Preston and the eight soldiers were tried for 
murder. But none of them were found guilty. The 



180 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

judges told the jury that the insults and violence which 
had been offered to the soldiers justified them in firing 
at the mob." 

" The Eevolution," observed Laurence, who had said 
but little during the evening, " was not such a calm, 
majestic movement as I supposed. I do not love to 
hear of mobs and broils in the street. These things 
were unworthy of the people when they had such a 
great object to accomplish." 

" Nevertheless, the world has seen no grander move- 
ment than that of our Revolution from first to last," 
said Grandfather. " The people, to a man, were full 
of a great and noble sentiment. True, there may be 
much fault to find with their mode of expressing this 
sentiment ; but they knew no better ; the necessity was 
upon them to act out their feelings in the best manner 
they could. We must forgive what was wrong in their 
actions, and look into their hearts and minds for the 
honorable motives that impelled them." 

" And I suppose," said Laurence, " there were men 
who knew how to act worthily of what they felt." 

" There were many such," replied Grandfather ; 
" and we will speak of some of them hereafter." 

Grandfather here made a pause. That night Charley 
had a dream about the Boston massacre, and thought 
that he himself was in the crowd and struck down 
Captain Preston with a great club. Laurence dreamed 
that he was sitting in our great chair, at the window 
of the British Coffee House, and beheld the whole 
scene which Grandfather had described. It seemed 
to him, in his dream, that, if the townspeople and the 
soldiers would but have heard him speak a single 
word, all the slaughter might have been averted. But 
there was such an uproar that it drowned his voice. 



THE BOSTON MASSACRE, 181 

The next morning the two boys went together to 
State Street and stood on the very spot where the 
first blood of the Revohition had been shed. The Old 
State House was still there, presenting almost the 
same aspect that it had worn on that memorable 
evening, one-and-seventy years ago. It is the sole re- 
maining witness of the Boston massacre. 



CHAPTER VI. 

A COLLECTION OF PORTKAITS. 

The next evening the astral lamp was lighted earlier 
than usual, because Laurence was very much engaged 
in looking over the collection of portraits which had 
been his New- Year's gift from Grandfather. 

Among them he found the features of more than 
one famous personage who had been connected with 
the adventures of our old chair. Grandfather bade 
him draw the table nearer to the fireside ; and they 
looked over the portraits together, while Clara and 
Charley likewise lent their attention. As for little 
Alice, she sat in Grandfather's lap, and seemed to see 
the very men alive whose faces were there represented. 

Turning over the volume, Laurence came to the 
portrait of a stern, grim-looking man, in plain attire, 
of much more modern fashion than that of the old 
Puritans. But the face might well have befitted one 
of those iron-hearted men. Beneath the portrait was 
the name of Samuel Adams. 

" He was a man of great note in all the doings that 
brought about the Revolution," said Grandfather. 
" His character was such, that it seemed as if one of 
the ancient Puritans had been sent back to earth to 
animate the people's hearts with the same abhorrence 
of tyranny that had distinguished the earliest settlers. 
He was as religious as they, as stern and inflexible, 
and as deeply imbued with democratic principles. He, 



A COLLECTION OF PORTRAITS. 183 

better than any one else, may be taken as a represen- 
tative of the people of New P^ngiand, and of the spirit 
with whicli they engaged in the Kevolutionary struggle. 
He was a poor man, and earned his bread by a humble 
occupation ; but with his tongue and pen he made the 
Kinjr of Eno'land tremble on his throne. Remember 
him, my children, as one of the strong men of our 
country." 

" Here is one whose looks show a very different 
character," observed Laurence, turning to the portrait 
of John Hancock. " I should think, by his splendid 
dress and courtly aspect, that he was one of the king's 
friends." 

" There never was a greater contrast than between 
Samuel Adams and John Hancock," said Grandfather. 
" Yet they were of the same side in politics, and had 
an equal agency in the Revolution. Hancock was 
born to the inheritance of the largest fortune in New 
Enoiand. His tastes and habits were aristocratic. He 
loved gorgeous attire, a splendid mansion, magnificent 
furniture, stately festivals, and all that was glittering 
and pompous in external things. His manners were 
so polished that there stood not a nobleman at the 
footstool of King George's throne who was a more 
skilful courtier than John Hancock might have been. 
Nevertheless, he in his embroidered clothes, and Sam- 
uel Adams in his threadbare coat, wrought together 
in the cause of liberty. Adams acted from pure and 
rigid principle. Hancock, though he loved his coun- 
try, yet thought quite as much of his own popularity 
as he did of the people's rights. It is remarkable that 
these two men, so very different as I describe them, 
were the only two exempted from pardon by the king's 
proclamation." 



184 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

On the next leaf of the book was the portrait of 
General Joseph Warren. Charley recognized the 
name, and said that here was a greater man than 
either Hancock or Adams. 

" Warren was an eloquent and able patriot," replied 
Grandfather. " He deserves a lasting memory for his 
zealous efforts in behalf of liberty. No man's v^oice 
was more powerful in Faneuil Hall than Joseph War- 
ren's. If his death had not happened so early in the 
contest, he would probably have gained a high name 
as a soldier." 

The next portrait was a venerable man, who held 
his thumb under his chin, and, through his spectacles, 
aj^peared to be attentively reading a manuscript. 

" Here we see the most illustrious Boston boy that 
ever lived," said Grandfather. " This is Benjamin 
Franklin. But I will not try to compress into a few 
sentences the character of the sage, who, as a French- 
man expressed it, snatched the lightning from the sky 
and the sceptre from a tyrant. Mr. Sparks must help 
you to the knowledge of Franklin." ^ 

The book likewise contained portraits of James Otis 
and Josiah Quinc3^ Both of them. Grandfather ob- 
served, were men of wonderful talents and true patri- 
otism. Their voices were like the stirring tones of a 
trumpet arousing the country to defend its freedom. 
Heaven seemed to have provided a greater number of 
eloquent men than had appeared at any other period, 
in order that the people might be fully instructed as 
to their wrongs and the method of resistance. 

^ Hawthorne himself wrote a sketch of Franklin. See River- 
♦ side Literature Series, No. 10. But the best account of Franklin 
is his Autobiographj, ■puhVished in Riverside Literature Series, Nos. 
19 and 20. 




'^^^^^^^. L^h.-^ 



FANEUIL HALL, BOSTON 



Built in 1742, at the expense of Peter Faneuil of Boston, and given by him to the 
town. It is now standing as enlarged in 1S05. The lower story is used as a 
public market. In the second story is the famous hall, which is always free to 
citizens for public meetings. 



A COLLECTION OF PORTRAITS. 185 

" It is marvellous," said Grandfather, " to see how 
many powerful writers, orators, and soldiers started up 
just at the time when they were wanted. There was a 
man for every kind of work. It is equally wonderful 
that men of such different characters were all made 
to unite in the one object of establishing the freedom 
and independence of America. There was an over- 
ruling Providence above them." 

" Here was another great man," remarked Lau- 
rence, pointing to the portrait of John Adams. 

" Yes ; an earnest, warm-tempered, honest and most 
able man," said Grandfather. " At the period of 
which we are now speaking he was a lawyer in Bos- 
ton. He was destined in after years to be ruler over 
the whole American people, whom he contributed so 
much to form into a nation." 

Grandfather here remarked that many a New-Eng- 
lander, who had passed his boyhood and youth in ob- 
scurity, afterward attained to a fortune which he never 
could have foreseen even in his most ambitious dreams. 
John Adams, the second President of the United 
States and the equal of crowned kings, was once a 
schoolmaster and country lawyer. Hancock, the first 
signer of the Declaration of Independence, served his 
apprenticeship with a merchant. Samuel Adams, 
afterwards governor of Massachusetts, was a small 
tradesman and a tax-gatherer. General Warren was 
a physician. General Lincoln a farmer, and General 
Knox a bookbinder. General Nathaniel Greene, the 
best soldier, except Washington, in the Revolutionary 
army, was a Quaker and a blacksmith. All these be- 
came illustrious men, and can never be forgotten in 
American history. 

" And any boy who is born in America may look 



186 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

forward to the same things," said our ambitious friend 
Charley. 

After these observations, Grandfather drew the book 
of portraits towards him and showed the children sev- 
eral British peers and members of Parliament who 
had exerted themselves either for or against the rights 
of America. There were the Earl of Bute, Mr. Gren- 
ville, and Lord North. These were looked upon as 
deadly enemies to our country. 

Among the friends of America was Mr. Pitt, after- 
ward Earl of Chatham, who spent so much of his won- 
drous eloquence in endeavoring to warn England of 
the consequences of her injustice. He fell down on 
the floor of the House of Lords after uttering almost 
his dying words in defence of our privileges as free- 
men. There was Edmund Burke, one of the wisest 
men and greatest orators that ever the world produced. 
There was Colonel Barre, who had been among our 
fathers, and knew that they had courage enough to 
die for their rights. There was Charles eTames Fox, 
who never rested until he had silenced our enemies 
in the House of Commons. 

" It is very remarkable to observe how many of the 
ablest orators in the British Parliament were favor- 
able to America," said Grandfather. " We ought to 
remember these great Englishmen with gratitude ; for 
their speeches encouraged our fathers almost as much 
as those of our own orators in Faneuil Hall and under 
Liberty Tree. Opinions which might have been re- 
ceived with doubt, if expressed only by a native Amer- 
ican, were set down as true, beyond dispute, when they 
came from the lips of Chatham, Burke, Barre, or 
Fox." 

" But, Grandfather," asked Lawrence, " were there 



A COLLECTION OF PORTRAITS. 187 

no able and eloquent men in this country who took 
the part of King George ? " 

" There were many men of talent who said what 
they could in defence of the king's tyrannical pro- 
ceedings," replied Grandfather. " But they had the 
worst side of the argument, and therefore seldom said 
anything worth remembering. Moreover, their hearts 
were faint and feeble ; for they felt that the people 
scorned and detested them. They had no friends, no 
defence, except in the bayonets of the British troops. 
A blight fell upon all their faculties, because they 
were contending against the rights of their own na- 
tive land." 

" What were the names of some of them ? " inquired 
Charley. 

" Governor Hutchinson, Chief Justice Oliver, Judge 
Auchmuty, the Rev. Mather Byles, and several other 
clergymen, were among the most noted loyalists," an- 
swered Grandfather. 

" I wish that people had tarred and feathered every 
man of them ! " cried Charley. 

" That wish is very wrong, Charley," said Grand- 
father. " You must not think that there is no integ- 
rity and honor except among those who stood up for 
the freedom of America. For aught I know, there 
was quite as much of these qualities on one side as on 
the other. Do you see nothing admirable in a faith- 
ful adherence to an unpopular cause ? Can you not 
respect that principle of loyalty which made the roy- 
alists give up country, friends, fortune, everything, 
rather than be false to their king ? It was a mistaken 
principle ; but many of them cherished it honorably, 
and were martyrs to it." 

" Oh, I was wrong ! " said Charley, ingenuously. 



188 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

" And I would risk my life ratlier than one of tliose 
good old royalists should be tarred and feathered." 

" The time is now come when we may judge fairly 
of them," continued Grandfather. " Be the good and 
true men among them honored ; for they were as much 
our countrymen as the patriots were. And, thank 
Heaven, our country need not be ashamed of her sons, 
— of most of them at least, — whatever side they took 
in the Revolutionary contest." 

Among the portraits was one of King George III. 
Little Alice clapped her hands, and seemed pleased 
with the bluff good-nature of his physiognomy. But 
Laurence thought it strange that a man with such a 
face, indicating hardly a common share of intellect, 
should have had influence enough on human affairs to 
convulse the world with war. Grandfather observed 
that this poor king had always appeared to him one of 
the most unfortunate persons that ever lived. He was 
so honest and conscientious, that, if he had been only a 
private man, his life would probably have been blame- 
less and happy. But his was that worst of fortunes, — 
to be i^laced in a station far beyond his abilities. 

" And so," said Grandfather, " his life, while he re- 
tained what intellect Heaven had gifted him with, was 
one long mortification. At last he grew crazed with 
care and trouble. For nearly twenty years the mon- 
arch of England was confined as a madman. In his 
old age, too, God took away his eyesight ; so that his 
royal palace was nothing to him but a dark, lonesome 
prison-house." 



CHAPTER VII. 

THE TEA PARTY AND LEXINGTON. 

" Our old chair," resumed Grandfatlier, " did not 
now stand in the midst of a gay circle of British 
officers. The troops, as I told you, had been removed 
to Castle William immediately after tlie Boston mas- 
sacre. Still, however, there were many tories, cus- 
tom-house officers, and Englishmen who used to 
assemble in the British Coffee House and talk over 
the affairs of the period. Matters grew worse and 
worse ; and in 1773 the people did a deed which 
incensed the king and ministry more than any of 
their former doings." 

Grandfather here described the affair, which is 
known by the name of the Boston Tea Party. The 
Americans, for some time past, had left off import- 
ing tea, on account of the oppressive tax. The East 
India Company, in London, had a large stock of tea 
on hand, which they had expected to sell to the 
Americans, but could find no market for it. But, 
after a while, the government persuaded this company 
of merchants to send the tea to America. 

" How odd it is," observed Clara, " that the lib- 
erties of America should have had anything to do 
with a cup of tea! " 

Grandfatlier smiled, and proceeded with his nar- 
rative. When tlie peoj)le of Boston lieard that several 
cargoes of tea were coming across tlit^ Atlantic, they 



190 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

held a great many meetings at Faneuil Hall, in the 
Old South Church, and under Liberty Tree. In the 
midst of their debates, three ships arrived in the 
harbor with the tea on board. The people spent more 
than a fortnight in consulting what should be done. 
At last, on the 16th of December, 1773, they demanded 
of Governor Hutchinson that he should immediately 
send the ships back to England. 

The governor replied that the ships must not leave 
the harbor until the custom-house duties upon the tea 
should be paid. Now, the payment of these duties 
was the very thing against which the people had set 
their faces ; because it was a tax unjustly imposed 
upon America by the English government. Therefore, 
in the dusk of the evening, as soon as Governor 
Hutchinson's reply was received, an immense crowd 
hastened to Griffin's Wharf, where the tea-ships lay. 
The place is now called Liverpool Wharf. 

" When the crowd reached the wharf," said Grand- 
father, " they saw that a set of wild-looking figures 
were already on board of the ships. You would have 
ima2:ined that the Lidian warriors of old times had 
come back again ; for they wore the Indian dress, and 
had their faces covered with red and black paint, like 
the Indians when they go to war. These grim figures 
hoisted the tea-chests on the decks of the vessels, 
broke them open, and threw all the contents into the 
harbor." 

^ " Grandfather," said little Alice, " I suppose Indians 
don't love tea ; else they would never waste it so." 

" They were not real Indians, my child," answered 
Grandfather. " They were white men in disguise ; be- 
cause a heavy punishment would have been inflicted 
on them if the king's officers had found who they were. 



THE TEA PARTY AND LEXINGTON. 191 

But it was never known. From that day to this, 
though the matter has been talked of by all the world, 
nobody can tell the names of those Indian figures. 
Some people say that there were very famous men 
among them, who afterwards became governors and 
tjenerals. Whether this be true I cannot tell." 

When tidings of this bold deed were carried to 
England, King George was greatly enraged. Parlia- 
ment immediately passed an act, by which all vessels 
were forbidden to take in or discharge their cargoes 
at the port of Boston. In this way they expected to 
ruin all the merchants, and starve the poor people, by 
depriving them of employment. At the same time 
another act was passed, taking away many rights and 
privileges which had been granted in the charter of 
Massachusetts. 

Governor Hutchinson, soon afterward, was sum- 
moned to England, in order that he might give his 
advice about the management of American affairs. 
General Gage, an officer of the old French War, 
and since commander-in-chief of the British forces in 
America, was appointed governor in his stead. One 
of his first acts was to make Salem, instead of Boston, 
the metropolis of Massachusetts, by summoning the 
General Court to meet there. 

According to Grandfather's description, this was the 
most gloomy time that Massachusetts had ever seen. 
The people groaned under as heavy a tyranny as in 
the days of Sir Edmund Andros. Boston looked as 
if it were afflicted with some dreadful pestilence, — 
so sad were the inhabitants, and so desolate the streets. 
There was no cheerful hum of business. The mer- 
chants shut up their warehouses, and the laboring men 
stood idle about the wharves. But all America felt 



192 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

interested in tlie good town of Boston ; and contribu- 
tions were raised, in many places, for tlie relief of tlie 
poor inhabitants. 

" Our dear old cliair ! " exclaimed Clara. " How 
dismal it must liave been now ! " 

" Oil," replied Grandfather, " a gay throng of offi- 
cers had now come back to the British Coffee House ; 
so that the old chair had no lack of mirthful company. 
Soon after General Gage became governor a great 
many troops had arrived, and were encamped upon 
the Common. Boston was now a garrisoned and for- 
tified town ; for the general had built a battery across 
the Neck, on the road to Roxbury, and placed guards 
for its defence. Everything looked as if a civil war 
were close at hand." 

" Did the people make ready to fight? " asked Char- 
ley. 

"A Continental Congress assembled at Philadel- 
phia," said Grandfather, "and proposed such meas- 
ures as they thought most conducive to the public 
good. A Provincial Congress was likewise chosen in 
Massachusetts. They exhorted the people to arm and 
discipline themselves. A great number of minute- 
men were enrolled. The Americans called them min- 
ute-men, because they engaged to be ready to fight at 
a minute's warning. The English officers laughed, 
and said that the name was a very proper one, because 
the minute-men would run away the minute they saw 
the enemy. Whether they would fight or run was soon 
to be proved." 

Grandfather told the children that the first open 
resistance offered to the British troops, in the province 
of Massachusetts, was at Salem. Colonel Timothy 
Pickering, with thirty or forty militia-men, prevented 



THE TEA PARTY AND LEXINGTON. 193 

the English colonel, Leslie, with four times as many 
regular soldiers, from taking jjossession of some mili- 
tary stores. No blood was shed on this occasion ; but 
soon afterward it began to flow. 

General Gage sent eight hundred soldiers to Con- 
cord, about eighteen miles from Boston, to destroy 
some ammunition and provisions which the colonists 
had collected there. They set out on their march on 
the evening of the 18th of April, 1775. The next 
morning the general sent Lord Percy with nine hun- 
dred men to strengthen the troops that had gone be- 
fore. All that day the inhabitants of Boston heard 
various rumors. Some said that the British were mak- 
ing great slaughter among our countrymen. Others 
affirmed that every man had turned out with his mus- 
ket, and that not a single soldier would ever get back 
to Boston. 

" It was after sunset," continued Grandfather, " when 
the troops, who had marched forth so proudly, were 
seen entering Charlestown. They were covered with 
dust, and so hot and weary that their tongues hung 
out of their mouths. Many of them were faint with 
wounds. They had not all returned. Nearly three 
hundred were strewn, dead or dying, along the road 
from Concord. The yeomanry had risen upon the 
invaders and driven them back." 

"Was this the battle of Lexington?" asked Char- 
ley. 

" Yes," replied Grandfather ; " it was so called, be- 
cause the British, without provocation, had fired upon 
a party of minute-men, near Lexington meeting-house, 
and killed eight of them. That fatal volley, which 
was fired by order of Major Pitcairn, began the war 
of the Revolution." 



194 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

About this time, if Grandfather had been correctly 
informed, our chair disappeared from the British Cof- 
fee House. The manner of its departure cannot be 
satisfactorily ascertained. Perhaps the keeper of the 
Coffee House turned it out of doors on account of its 
old-fashioned aspect. Perhaps he sold it as a curios- 
ity. Perhaps it was taken, without leave, by some 
person who regarded it as public property because it 
had once figured under Liberty Tree. Or perhaps the 
old chair, being of a peaceable disposition, has made 
use of its four oaken legs and run away from the seat 
of war. 

'' It would have made a terrible clattering over the 
pavement," said Charley, laughing. 

" Meanwhile," continued Grandfather, " during the 
mysterious non-appearance of our chair, an army of 
twenty thousand men had started up and come to the 
siege of Boston. General Gage and his troops were 
cooped up within the narrow precincts of the penin- 
sula. On the 17th of June, 1775, the famous battle 
of Bunker Hill was fought. Here General Warren 
fell. The British got the victory, indeed, but with 
the loss of more than a thousand officers and men." 

" Oh Grandfather," cried Charley, " you must tell 
us about that famous battle." 

" No, Charley," said Grandfather, " I am not like 
other historians. Battles shall not hold a prominent 
place in the history of our quiet and comfortable old 
chair. But to-morrow evening, Laurence, Clara, and 
yourself, and dear little Alice too, shall visit the Dio- 
rama of Bunker Hill. There you shall see the whole 
business, the burning of Charlestown and all, with 
your own eyes, and hear the cannon and musketry 
with your own ears." 



CHAPTER VIII. 

THE SIEGE OF BOSTON. 

The next evening but one, when the children had 
given Grandfather a full account of the Diorama of 
Bunker Hill, they entreated him not to keep them 
any longer in suspense about the fate of his chair. 
The reader will recollect that, at the last accounts, it 
had trotted away upon its poor old legs nobody knew 
whither. But, before gratifying their curiosity. Grand- 
father found it necessary to say something about pub- 
lic events. 

The Continental Congress, which was assembled at 
Philadelphia, was composed of delegates from all the 
colonies. They had now appointed George Washing- 
ton, of Virginia, to be commander-in-chief of all the 
American armies. He was, at that time, a member of 
Congress ; but immediately left Philadelphia, and be- 
gan his journey to Massachusetts. On tlie 3d of July, 
1775, he arrived at Cand:)ridge, and took command of 
the troops which were besieging General Gage. 

" O Grandfather,'' exclaimed Laurence, " it makes 
my heart throb to think what is coming now. We 
are to see General Washington himself." 

The children crowded around Grandfather and 
looked earnestly into his face. Even little Alice 
opened her sweet blue eyes, with her lips apart, and 
almost held her breath to listen ; so instinctive is the 
reverence of childhood for the father of his country. 



196 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

Grandfather paused a moment ; for he felt as if it 
might be irreverent to introduce the hallowed shade 
of Washington into a history where an ancient elbow- 
chair occupied the most prominent place. However, 
he determined to proceed with his narrative, and speak 
of the hero when it was needful, but with an unam- 
bitious simplicity. 

So Grandfather told his auditors, that, on General 
Washington's arrival at Cambridge, his first care was 
to reconnoitre the British troops with his spj^-glass, 
and to examine the condition of his own army. He 
found that the American troops amounted to about 
fourteen thousand men. They were extended all round 
the peninsula of Boston, a space of twelve miles, from 
the high grounds of Roxbury on the right to Mystic 
River on the left. Some were living in tents of sail- 
cloth, some in shanties rudely constructed of boards, 
some in huts of stone or turf with curious windows 
and doors of basket-work. 

In order to be near the centre and oversee the whole 
of this wide-stretched army, the commander-in-chief 
made his headquarters at Cambridge, about half a 
mile from the colleges. A mansion-house, which per- 
haps had been the country seat of some Tory gentle- 
man, was provided for his residence. 

" When General Washington first entered this man- 
sion," said Grandfather, " he was lishered up the stair- 
case and shown into a handsome apartment. He sat 
down in a large chair, which was the most conspicuous 
object in the room. The noble figure of Washington 
would have done honor to a throne. As he sat there, 
with his hand resting on the hilt of his sheathed 
sword, which was placed between his knees, his whole 
aspect well befitted the chosen man on whom his 



THE SIEGE OF BOSTON. 197 

country leaned for the defence of lier dearest rights. 
America seemed safe mider his protection. His face 
was grander than any sculptor had ever wrought in 
marble ; none could behold him without awe and rev- 
erence. Never before had the lion's head at the sum- 
mit of the chair looked down upon such a face and 
form as Washington's." 

" Why, Grandfather ! " cried Clara, clasping her 
hands in amazement, " was it really so ? Did General 
Washington sit in our great chair? " 

'' I knew how it would be," said Laurence ; " I fore- 
saw it the moment Grandfather began to speak." 

Grandfather smiled. But, turning from the per- 
sonal and domestic life of the illustrious leader, he 
spoke of the methods which Washington adopted to 
win back the metropolis of New England from the 
British. 

The army, when he took command of it, was with- 
out any discipline or order. The privates considered 
themselves as good as their officers ; and seldom 
thought it necessary to obey their commands, unless 
they understood the why and wherefore. Moreover, 
they were enlisted for so short a period, that, as soon 
as they began to be respectable soldiers, it was time to 
discharge them. Then came new recruits, who had to 
be taught their duty before they could be of any ser- 
vice. Such was the army with which Washington 
had to contend against more than twenty veteran 
British regiments. 

Some of the men had no muskets, and almost all 
were without bayonets. Heavy cannon, for battering 
the British fortifications, were much wanted. There 
was but a small quantity of powder and ball, few tools 
to build intrenchments with, and a great deficiency of 



198 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

provisions and clothes for tlie soldiers. Yet, in spite 
of these perplexing difficulties, the eyes of the whole 
people were fixed on General Washington, expecting 
him to undertake some great enterprise against the 
hostile army. 

The first thing that he found necessary w^as to bring 
his own men into better order and discipline. It is 
wonderful how soon he transformed this rough mob of 
country people into the semblance of a regular army. 
One of AYashington's most invaluable characteristics 
was the faculty of brino-ino; order out of confusion. 
All business with which he had any concern seemed 
to regulate itself as if by magic. The influence of 
his mind was like light gleaming through an unshaped 
world. It was this faculty, more than any other, that 
made him so fit to ride upon the storm of the Ke volu- 
tion wdien everything was unfixed and drifting about 
in a troubled sea. 

" Washington had not been long at the head of the 
army," proceeded Grandfather, " before his soldiers 
thought as highly of him as if he had led them to a 
hundred victories. They knew that he was the very 
man whom the country needed, and the only one who 
could bring them safely through the great contest 
against the might of England. They put entire con- 
fidence in his courage, wisdom, and integrity." 

" And were they not eager to follow him against the 
British ? " asked Charley. 

" Doubtless they would have gone whithersoever his 
sword pointed the way," answered Grandfather ; " and 
Washington was anxious to make a decisive assault 
upon the enemy. But as the enterprise was very haz- 
ardous, he called a council of all the generals in the 
army. Accordingly they came from their different 



THE SIEGE OF BOSTON. 199 

posts, and were ushered into the reception-room. The 
commander-in-chief arose from our great chair to greet 
them." 

" What were their names ? " asked Charley. 

"There was General Artemas Ward," replied 
Grandfather, " a lawyer by profession. He had 
commanded the troops before Washington's arrival. 
Another was General Charles Lee, who had been a 
colonel in the English army, and was thought to pos- 
sess vast military science. He came to the council, 
followed by two or three dogs which were always at 
his heels. There was General Putnam, too, who was 
known all over New England by the name of Old 
Put.'' 

" Was it he who killed the wolf ? " inquired Char- 
ley. 

"The same," said Grandfather; " and he had done 
good service in the old French War. His occupation 
was that of a farmer ; but he left his plough in the 
furrow at the news of Lexington battle. Then there 
was General Gates, who afterward gained great re- 
nown at Saratoga, and lost it again at Camden. Gen- 
eral Greene, of Khode Island, was likewise at the 
council. Washington soon discovered him to be one 
of the best officers in the army." 

When the generals were all assembled, Washington 
consulted them about a i)lan for storming the English 
batteries. But it was their unanimous opinion that 
so perilous an enterprise ought not to be attempted. 
The army, therefore, continued to besiege Boston, pre- 
venting the enemy from obtaining supplies of provi- 
sions, but without taking any immediate measures to 
get possession of the town. Li this manner the sum- 
mer, autumn, and winter passed away. 



200 GRANDFATHERS CHAIR. . 

" Many a night, doubtless," said Grandfather, 
" after Washington had been all day on horseback, 
galloping from one post of the army to another, he 
used to sit in our great chair, rapt in earnest thought. 
Had you seen him, you might have supposed that his 
whole mind was fixed on the blue china tiles which 
adorned the old-fashioned fireplace. But, in reality, 
he was meditating how to capture the British army, 
or drive it out of Boston. Once, when there was a 
hard frost, he formed a scheme to cross the Charles 
River on the ice. But the other generals could not 
be persuaded that there was any prospect of success." 

''What were the British doing all this time?" in- 
quired Charley. 

" They lay idle in the town," replied Grandfather. 
" General Ga^e had been recalled to England, and 
was succeeded by Sir William Howe.^ The British 
army and the inhabitants of Boston were now in great 
distress. Being shut up in the town so long, they had 
consumed almost all their provisions and burned up 
all their fuel. The soldiers tore down the Old North 
Church, and used its rotten boards and timbers for 
firewood. To heighten their distress, the small-pox 
broke out. They probably lost far more men by cold, 
hunger, and sickness than had been slain at Lexington 
and Bunker Hill." 

" What a dismal time for the i)oor woman and chil- 
dren ! " exclaimed Clara. 

"At length," continued Grandfather, "in March, 
1776, General Washington, who had now a good sup- 
ply of powder, began a terrible cannonade and bom- 

1 It will be remembered that Hawthorne in his Legends of the 
Province House imagines an entertainment during the siege. 
See Howe's Masquerade. 



THE SIEGE OE BOSTON. 201 

bardinent from Dorchester Heights. One of the can- 
non-balls wliich he tired into the town strnck the tower 
of the Brattle Street Church, where it may still be 
seen. Sir Wiiliam Howe made preparations to cross 
over in boats and drive the Americans from their bat- 
teries, bnt was prevented by a violent gale and storm. 
General Washington next erected a battery on Nook's 
Hill, so near the enemy that it was impossible for 
them to remain in Boston any longer." 

" Hurrah ! Hurrah ! " cried Charley, clapping his 
hands triumphantly. " I wish I had been there to see 
how sheepish the Englishmen looked." 

And as Grandfather thought that Boston had never 
witnessed a more interesting period than this, when 
the royal power was in its death agony, he determined 
to take a peep into the town and imagine the feelings 
of those who were quitting it forever. 



CHAPTER IX. 
THE Tory's farewell. 

" Alas for the poor tories ! " said Grandfather. 
" Until the very last morning after Washington's 
troops had shown themselves on Nook's Hill, these 
unfortunate persons could not believe that the auda- 
cious rebels, as they called the Americans, would ever 
prevail against King George's army. But when they 
saw the British soldiers preparing to embark on board 
of the ships of war, then they knew that they had lost 
their country. Could the patriots have known how 
bitter were their regrets, they would have forgiven 
them all their evil deeds, and sent a blessing after 
them as they sailed away from their native shore." 

In order to make the children sensible of the piti- 
able condition of these men, Grandfather singled out 
Peter Oliver, chief justice of Massachusetts under 
the crown, and imagined him walking through the 
streets of Boston on the morning before he left it for- 
ever. 

This effort of Grandfather's fancy may be called 
the Tory's Farewell. 

Old Chief Justice Oliver threw on his red cloak, 
and placed his three-cornered hat on the top of his 
white wig. In this garb he intended to go forth and 
take a parting look at objects that had been familiar 
to him from his youth. Accordingly, he began his 
walk in the north part of the town, and soon came to 



THE TORTS FAREWELL. 208 

Faneuil Hall. This edifice, the cradle of liberty, had 
been used by the British officers as a playhouse. 

"■ Would that I could see its walls crumble to dust ! " 
thought the chief justice ; and, in the bitterness of his 
heart, he shook his fist at the famous hall. " There 
began the mischief which now threatens to rend asun- 
der the British empire. The seditious harangues of 
demagogues in Faneuil Hall have made rebels of a 
loyal people and deprived me of my country." 

He then passed through a narrow avenue and found 
himself in King Street, almost on the very spot which, 
six years before, had been reddened by the blood of 
the Boston massacre. The chief justice stepped cau- 
tiously, and shuddered, as if he were afraid that, even 
now, the gore of his slaughtered countrymen might 
stain his feet. 

Before him rose the Town House, on the front of 
which were still displayed the royal arms. Within 
that edifice he had dispensed justice to the people in 
the days when his name was never mentioned without 
honor. There, too, was the balcony whence the trum- 
pet had been sounded and the proclamation read to 
an assembled multitude, whenever a new king: of Ena- 
land ascended the throne. 

'' I remember — I remember," said Chief Justice 
Oliver to himself, " when his present most sacred Maj- 
esty was proclaimed. Then how the people shouted ! 
Each man would have poured out his life-blood to keep 
a hair of King George's head from harm. But now 
there is scarcely a tongue in all New England that 
does liot imprecate curses on his name. It is ruin and 
disgrace to love him. Can it be possible that a few 
fleeting years have wrought such a change?" 

It did not occur to the chief justice that nothing but 



204 GRANDFATHERS CHAIR. 

the most grievous tyranny could so soon have changed 
the people's hearts. Hurrying from the spot, he 
entered Cornhill, as the lower part of Washington 
Street was then called. Opposite to the Town House 
was the waste foundation of the Old North Church. 
The sacrilegious hands of the British soldiers had 
torn it down, and kindled their barrack fires with the 
fragments. 

Farther on he passed beneath the tower of the Old 
South. The threshold of this sacred edifice was worn 
by the iron tramp of horses' feet ; for the interior had 
been used as a riding-school and rendezvous for a regi- 
ment of dragoons. As the chief justice lingered an in- 
stant at the door a trumpet sounded within, and the 
regiment came clattering forth and galloped down the 
street. They were proceeding to the place of embar- 
kation. 

" Let them go ! " thought the chief justice, with 
somewhat of an old Puritan feeling in his breast. 
" No good can come of men who desecrate the house 
of God." 

He went on a few steps farther, and paused before 
the Province House. No range of brick stores had 
then sprung up to hide the mansion of the royal gov- 
ernors fr(mi public view. It had a spacious court- 
yard, bordered with trees, and enclosed with a wrought- 
iron fence. On the cupola that surmounted the edi- 
fice was the gilded figure of an Indian chief, ready to 
let fly an arrow from his bow. Over the wide front 
door was a balcony, in which the chief justice had 
often stood when the governor and high officers of the 
province showed themselves to the people. 

While Chief Justice Oliver gazed sadly at the Prov- 
ince House, before which a sentinel was pacing, the 



THE TORY'S FAREWELL. 205 

double leaves of the door were thrown oi)en, and Sir 
AVilliani Howe made his ap2)earance. Behind him 
came a throng of officers, whose steel scabbards clat- 
tered against the stones as they hastened down the 
court-yard. Sir William Howe was a dark-comidex- 
ioned man, stern and haughty in his deportment. He 
stepped as proudly in that hour of defeat as if he 
were going to receive the submission of the rebel gen- 
eral. 

The chief justice bowed and accosted him. 

" This is a grievous hour for both of us, Sir Wil- 
liam," said he. 

'' Forward ! gentlemen," said Sir William Howe to 
the officers who attended him ; " we have no time to 
hear lamentations now." 

And, coldly bowing, he departed. Thus the chief 
justice had a foretaste of the mortifications which the 
exiled New-Englanders afterwards suffered from the 
haughty Britons. They were despised even by that 
country which they had served more faithfully than 
their own. 

A still heavier trial awaited Chief Justice Oliver, as 
he passed onward from the Province House. He was 
recognized by the people in the street. They had long 
known him as the descendant of an ancient and hon- 
orable family. They had seen him sitting in his scar- 
let robes upon the judgment-seat. All his life long, 
either for the sake of his ancestors or on account of 
his own dignified station and unsj)otted character, he 
had been held in high respect. The old gentry of the 
province were looked upon almost as noblemen while 
Massachusetts was under royal government. 

But now all hereditary reverence for birth and rank 
was gone. The inhabitants shouted in derision when 



206 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

they saw the venerable form of the old chief justice. 
They laid the wrongs of the country and their own 
sufferings during the siege — their hunger, cold, and 
sickness — partly to his charge and to that of his 
brother Andrew and his kinsman Hutchinson. It was 
by their advice that the king had acted in all the co- 
lonial troubles. But the day of recompense was come. 

" See the old tory ! " cried the peoj^le, with bitter 
laughter. " He is taking his last look at us. Let 
him show his white wig among us an hour hence, and 
we '11 o'ive him a coat of tar and feathers ! " 

The chief justice, however, knew that he need fear 
no violence so long as the British troops were in j^os- 
session of the town. But, alas I it was a bitter thought 
that he should leave no loving memory behind him. 
His forefathers, long after their spirits left the earth, 
had been honored in the affectionate remembrance of 
the people. But he, who would henceforth be dead 
to his native land, would have no epitaph save scorn- 
ful and vindictive words. The old man wept. 

" They curse me, they invoke all kinds of evil on 
my head ! " thought he, in the midst of his tears. 
" But, if they could read my heart, they would know 
that I love New England well. Heaven bless her, and 
bring her again under the rule of our gracious king ! 
A blessing, too, on these poor, misguided people ! " 

The chief justice flung out his hands with a gesture, 
as if he were bestowing a parting benediction on his 
countrymen. He had now reached the southern por- 
tion of the town, and was far within the range of can- 
non-shot from the American batteries. Close beside 
him was the broad stump of a tree, which appeared to 
have been recently cut down. Being weary and heavy 
at heart, he was about to sit down upon the stump. 



THE TORY'S FAREWELL 207 

Suddenly it flashed upon his recollection that this 
was the stump of Liberty Tree ! The British soldiers 
had cut it down, vainly boasting that they could as 
easily overthrow the liberties of America. Under its 
shadowy branches, ten years before, the brother of 
Chief Justice Oliver had been compelled to acknowl- 
edge the supremacy of the people by taking the oath 
which they prescribed. This tree was connected with 
all the events that had severed America from Eng- 
land. 

'' Accursed tree ! " cried the chief justice, gnashing 
his teeth ; for anger overcame his sorrow. " Would 
that thou hadst been left standing till Hancock, 
Adams, and every other traitor, were hanged upon 
thy branches ! Then fitly mightest thou have been 
hewn down and cast into the flames." 

He turned back, hurried to Long Wharf without 
looking behind him, euibarked with the British troops 
for Halifax, and never saw his country more. Through- 
out the remainder of his days Chief Justice Oliver 
was ao'itated with those same conflictino- emotions that 
had tortured him while taking his farewell walk 
through the streets of Boston. Deep love and fierce 
resentment burned in one flame within his breast. 
Anathemas struggled with benedictions. He felt as 
if one breath of his native air would renew his life, 
yet would have died rather than breathe the same air 
with rebels. And such likewise were the feelings of 
the other exiles, a thousand in number, who departed 
with the British army. AVere they not the most un- 
fortunate of men ? 

" The misfortunes of those exiled tories," observed 
Laurence, " must have made them think of the poor 
exiles of Acadia." 



208 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

" They had a sad time of it, I suppose," said Char- 
ley. " But I choose to rejoice with the patriots, rather 
than be sorrowful with the tories. Grandfather, what 
did General Washington do now?" 

" As the rear of the British army embarked from 
the wharf," replied Grandfather, *' General Washing- 
ton's troops marched over the Neck, through the forti- 
fication gates, and entered Boston in triumph. And 
now, for the first time since the Pilgrims landed, 
Massachusetts was free from the dominion of Eng- 
land. May she never again be subjected to foreign 
rule, — never again feel the rod of oppression ! " 

" Dear Grandfather," asked little Alice, " did Gen- 
eral Washington bring our chair back to Boston?" 

" I know not how long the chair remained at Cam- 
bridge," said Grandfather. " Had it stayed there till 
this time, it could not have found a better or more ap- 
propriate shelter. The mansion which General Wash- 
ington occupied is still standing, and his apartments 
have since been tenanted by several eminent men. 
Governor Everett, while a professor in the University, 
resided there. So at an after period did Mr. Sparks, 
whose invaluable labors have connected his name with 
the immortality of Washington. And at this very 
time a venerable friend and contemporary of your 
Grandfather, after long pilgrimages beyond the sea, 
has set up his staff of rest at Washington's headquar- 
ters." 

"You mean Professor Longfellow, Grandfather," 
said Laurence. " Oh, how I should love to see the 
author of those beautiful Voices of the Night ! " 

" We will visit him next summer," answered Grand- 
father, " and take Clara and little Alice with us, — 
and Charley, too, if he will be quiet." 




J/ o 



CHAPTER X. 

THE AVAR FOR INDEPENDENCE. 

When Grandfather resumed his narrative the next 
evening, he told the children that he had some diffi- 
culty in tracing the movements of the chair during a 
short period after General Washington's departure 
from Cambridge. 

Within a few months, however, it made its appear- 
ance at a shop in Boston, before the door of which was 
seen a striped pole. In the interior was displayed a 
stuffed alligator, a rattlesnake's skin, a bundle of In- 
dian arrows, an old-fashioned matchlock gun, a walk- 
ing-stick of Governor Winthrop's, a wig of old Cotton 
Mather's, and a colored print of the Boston massacre. 
In short, it was a barber's shop, kept by a Mr. Pierce, 
who prided himself on having shaved General Wash- 
ington, Old Put, and many other famous persons. 

" This was not a very dignified situation for our 
venerable chair," continued Grandfather ; " but, you 
know, there is no better place for news than a barber's 
shop. All the events of the Revolutionary War were 
heard of there sooner than anywhere else. People 
used to sit in the chair, reading the newspaper, or 
talking, and waiting to be shaved, while Mr. Pierce, 
with his scissors and razor, was at work upon the 
heads or chins of his other customers." 

" I am sorry the chair could not betake itself to 
some more suitable place of refuge," said Laurence. 



210 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

" It was old now, and must have longed for quiet. 
Besides, after it liad held Washington in its arms, it 
ought not to have been compelled to receive all the 
world. It should have been put into the pulpit of the 
Old South Church, or some other consecrated place." 

" Perhaps so," answered Grandfather. " But the 
chair, in the course of its varied existence, had grown 
so accustomed to general intercourse with society, that 
I doubt whether it would have contented itself in the 
pulpit of the Old South. There it would have stood 
solitary, or with no livelier companion than the silent 
organ, in the opposite gallery, six days out of seven. 
I incline to think that it had seldom been situated 
more to its mind than on the sanded floor of the snug 
little barber's shop." 

Then Grandfather amused his children and himself 
with fancying all the different sorts of people who had 
occupied our chair while they awaited the leisure of 
the barber. 

There was the old clergyman, such as Dr. Chauncey, 
wearing a white wig, which the barber took from his 
head and placed upon a wig-block. Half an hour, per- 
haps, was spent in combing and powdering this rever- 
end appendage to a clerical skull. There, too, were 
officers of the Continental army, who required their 
hair to be pomatumed and plastered, so as to give 
them a bold and martial aspect. There, once in a 
while, was seen the thin, care-worn, melancholy visage 
of an old tory, with a wig that, in times long past, had 
perhaps figured at a Provincial House ball. And there, 
not unfrequently, sat the rough captain of a privateer, 
just returned from a successful cruise, in which he had 
captured half a dozen richly laden vessels belonging to 
King George's subjects. And sometimes a rosy little 



THE WAR FOR INDEPENDENCE. 211 

school-boy climbed into our chair, and sat staring, with 
wide-open eyes, at the alligator, the rattlesnake, and 
the other curiosities of the barber's shop. His mother 
had sent him, with sixpence in his hand, to get his 
glossy curls cropped off. The incidents of the lie vo- 
lution plentifully supplied the barber's customers with 
topics of conversation. They talked sorrowfully of 
the death of General Montgomery and the failure of 
our troops to take Quebec ; for the New-Englanders 
were now as anxious to get Canada from the English 
as they had formerly been to conquer it from the 
French. 

'' But very soon," said Grandfather, " came news 
from Philadelphia, the most important that America 
had ever heard of. On the 4th of July, 1776, Con- 
gress had signed the Declaration of Independence. 
The thirteen colonies were now free and independent 
States. Dark as our prospects were, the inhabitants 
welcomed these glorious tidings, and resolved to per- 
ish rather than again bear the yoke of England." 

" And I would perish, too ! " cried Charley. 

'' It was a great da}^ — a glorious deed ! " said Lau- 
rence, coloring high with enthusiasm. " And, Grand- 
father, I love to think that the sages in Congress 
showed themselves as bold and true as the soldiers in 
the field ; for it must have required more courage to 
sign the Declaration of Independence than to fight the 
enemy in battle." 

Grandfather acquiesced in Laurence's view of the 
matter. He then touched briefly and hastily upon the 
prominent events of the Revolution. The thunder- 
storm of war had now rolled soutliward, and did not 
again burst upon Massachusetts, where its first fury 
had been felt. But she contributed her full share to 



212 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

the success of the contest. Wherever a battle was 
fought, — whether at Long Island, AVhite Plains, Tren- 
ton, Princeton, Brandywine, or Germantown, — some 
of her brave sons were found slain upon the field. 

In October, 1777, General Burgoyne surrendered 
his army, at Saratoga, to the American general, Gates. 
The captured troops were sent to Massachusetts. Not 
lono' afterwards Dr. Franklin and other American com- 
missioners made a treaty at Paris, by which France 
bound herself to assist our countrymen. The gallant 
Lafayette was already fighting for our freedom by the 
side of Washington. In 1778 a French fleet, com- 
manded by Count d'Estaing, spent a considerable time 
in Boston harbor. It marks the vicissitudes of hu- 
man affairs, that the French, our ancient enemies, 
should come hither as comrades and brethren, and that 
kindred England should be our foe. 

"While the war was raging in the Middle and 
Southern States," proceeded Grandfather, " Massa- 
chusetts had leisure to settle a new constitution of 
government instead of the royal charter. This was 
done in 1780. In the same year John Hancock, who 
had been president of Congress, was chosen governor 
of the State. He was the first whom the people had 
elected since the days of old Simon Bradstreet." 

"But, Grandfather, who had been governor since 
the British were driven away ? " inquired Laurence. 
" General Gage and Sir William Howe were the last 
whom you have told us of." 

"There had been no governor for the last four 
years," replied Grandfather. " Massachusetts had 
been ruled by the Legislature, to whom the people 
paid obedience of their own accord. It is one of the 
most remarkable circumstances iu our history, that, 



I 



THE WAR FOR INDEPENDENCE. 213 

when the charter government was overthrown by the 
war, no anarchy nor the slightest confusion ensued. 
This was a great honor to the people. But now Han- 
cock was proclaimed governor by sound of trumpet; 
and there was again a settled government." 

Grandfather again adverted to the progress of the 
war. In 1781 General Greene drove the British from 
the Southern States. In October of tlie same year 
General Washington compelled Lord Cornw^allis to 
surrender his army, at Yorktown, in Virginia. This 
was the last great event of the Revolutionary contest. 
King George and his ministers perceived that all the 
might of England could not compel America to renew 
her allegiance to the crown. After a great deal of dis- 
cussion, a treaty of peace was signed in Sej)tember, 
1783. 

" Now, at last," said Grandfather, " after weary 
years of war, the regiments of Massachusetts returned 
in peace to their families. Now the stately and dig- 
nified leaders, such as General Lincoln and General 
Knox, with their powdered hair and their uniforms of 
blue and buff, were seen moving about the streets." 

" And little boys ran after them, I suppose," re- 
marked Charley ; " and the grown people bowed 
respectfully." 

" They deserved respect ; for they were good men 
as well as brave," answered Grandfather. " Now, too, 
the inferior officers and privates came home to seek 
some peaceful occupation. Their friends remembered 
tliem as slender and smooth-cheeked young men ; but 
they returned with the erect and rigid mien of disci- 
plined soldiers. Some hobbled on crutches and wooden 
legs ; others had received wounds, which were still 
rankling in their breasts. Many, alas ! had fallen in 



214 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

battle, and perhaps were left unbiiried on the bloody 
field." 

" The country must have been sick of war," ob- 
served Laurence. 

" One would have thought so," said Grandfather. 
" Yet only two or three years elapsed before the folly 
of some misguided men caused another mustering of 
soldiers. This affair was called Shays's war, because 
a Captain Shays was the chief leader of the insur- 
gents." 

" Oh Grandfather, don't let there be another war ! " 
cried little Alice, piteously. 

Grandfather comforted his dear little girl by assur- 
ing her that there was no great mischief done. Shays's 
war happened in the latter part of 1786 and the be- 
ginning of the following year. Its j^rincipal cause was 
the badness of times. The State of Massachusetts, in 
its public capacity, was very much in debt. So like- 
wise were many of the people. An insurrection took 
place, the object of which seems to have been to in- 
terrupt the course of law and get rid of debts and 
taxes. 

James Bowdoin, a good and able man, was now gov- 
ernor of Massachusetts. He sent General Lincoln, at 
the head of four thousand men, to put down the in- 
surrection. This general, who had fought through 
several hard campaigns in the Eevolution, managed 
matters like an old soldier, and totally defeated the 
rebels at the expense of very little blood. 

" There is but one more public event to be recorded 
in the history of our chair," proceeded Grandfather. 
" In the year 1794 Samuel Adams was elected gov- 
ernor of Massachusetts. I have told you what a dis- 
tinguished patriot he was, and how much he resembled 



THE WAR FOR INDEPENDENCE. 215 

the stern old Puritans. Could the ancient freemen of 
Massachusetts who lived in the days of the first charter 
have arisen from their graves, they would probably 
have voted for Samuel Adams to be sfovernor." 

" Well, Grandfather, I hope he sat in our chair," 
said Clara. 

"He did," replied Grandfather. "He had long 
been in the habit of visiting the barber's shop, where 
our venerable chair, philosophically forgetful of its 
former dignities, had now spent nearly eighteen not 
uncomfortable years. Such a remarkable piece of 
furniture, so evidently a relic of long-departed times, 
could not escape the notice of Samuel Adams. He 
made minute researches into its history, and ascer- 
tained what a succession of excellent and famous peo- 
ple had occupied it." 

" How did he find it out ? " asked Charley ; " for I 
suppose the chair could not tell its own history." 

" There used to be a vast collection of ancient let- 
ters and other documents in the tower of the Old 
South Church," answered Grandfather. " Perhaps the 
history of our chair was contained among these. At 
all events, Samuel Adams appears to have been well 
acquainted with it. When he became governor, he 
felt that he could have no more honorable seat than 
that which had been the ancient chair of state. He 
therefore purchased it for a trifle, and filled it wor- 
thily for three years as governor of Massachusetts." 

" And what next? " asked Charley. 

" That is all," said Grandfather, heaving a sigh ; 
for he could not help being a little sad at the thought 
that his stories must close here. " Samuel Adams died 
in 1803, at the age of above threescore and ten. He 
was a great patriot, but a poor man. At his death he 



216 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

left scarcely property enough to pay the expenses of 
his funeral. This precious chair, among his other 
effects, was sold at auction ; and your Grandfather, 
who was then in the strength of his years, became the 
purchaser." 

Laurence, with a mind full of thoughts that strug- 
gled for expression, but could find none, looked stead- 
fastly at the chair. 

He had now learned all its history, yet was not sat- 
isfied. 

" Oh, how I wish that the chair could speak ! " cried 
he. " After its long intercourse with mankind, — 
after looking upon the world for ages, — what lessons 
of golden wisdom it might utter ! It might teach a 
private person how to lead a good and happy life, or 
a statesman how to make his country prosperous." 



I 



CHAPTER XI. 
grandfather's dream. 

Grandfather was struck by Laurence's idea that 
the historic chair should utter a voice, and thus pour 
forth the collected wisdom of two centuries. The old 
gentleman had once possessed no inconsiderable share 
of fancy; and even now its fading sunshine occa- 
sionally glimmered among his more sombre reflec- 
tions. 

As the history of his chair had exhausted all his 
facts, Grandfather determined to have recourse to 
fable. So, after warning the children that they must 
not mistake this story for a true one, he related what 
we shall call Grandfather's Dream. 

Laurence and Clara, where were you last night ? 
Where were you, Charley, and dear little Alice ? You 
had all gone to rest, and left old Grandfather to med- 
itate alone in his great chair. The lamp had grown 
so dim that its light hardly illuminated the alabaster 
shade. The wood-fire had crumbled into liea^y em- 
bers, among which the little flames danced, and quiv- 
ered, and sported about like fairies. 

And here sat Grandfather all by himself. He knew 
that it was bedtime ; yet he could not help longing to 
hear your merry voices, or to hold a comfortable chat 
with some old friend ; because then his pillow would 
be visited by pleasant dreams. But, as neither chil- 
dren nor friends were at hand. Grandfather leaned 



218 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

back in the great chair and closed his eyes, for the 
sake of meditating more profoundly. 

And, when Grandfather's meditations had grown 
very profound indeed, he fancied that he heard a 
sound over his head, as if somebody were preparing to 
speak. 

"Hem!" it said, in a dry, husky tone. " H-e-m ! 
Hem!" 

As Grandfather did not know that any person was 
in the room, he started up in great surprise, and 
peeped hither and thither, behind the chair, and into 
the recess by the fireside, and at the dark nook yon- 
der near the bookcase. Nobody could be seen. 

" Poh ! " said Grandfather to himself, " I must have 
been dr camming." 

But, just as he was going to resume his seat, Grand- 
father happened to look at the great chair. The rays 
of firelight were flickering upon it in such a manner 
that it really seemed as if its oaken frame were all 
alive. What ! did it not move its elbow ? There, 
too ! It certainly lifted one of its ponderous fore legs, 
as if it had a notion of drawing itself a little nearer to 
the fire. Meanwhile the lion's head nodded at Grand- 
father with as polite and sociable a look as a lion's 
visage, carved in oak, could possibly be expected to 
assume. Well, this is strange ! 

" Good evening, my old friend," said the dry and 
husky voice, now a little clearer than before. " We 
have been intimately acquainted so long that I think 
it high time we have a chat together." 

Grandfather was looking straight at the lion's head, 
and could not be mistaken in supposing that it moved 
its lips. So here the mystery was all explained. 

" I was not aware," said Grandfather, with a civil 



GRANDFATHER'S DREAM. 219 

salutation to his oaken companion, " that you possessed 
the faculty of speech. Otherwise I should often have 
been glad to converse with such a solid, useful, and 
substantial if not brilliant member of society." 

'' Oh ! " replied the ancient chair, in a quiet and 
easy tone, for it had now cleared its throat of the dust 
of ages, " I am naturally a silent and incommunica- 
tive sort of character. Once or twice in the course of 
a century I unclose my lips. When the gentle Lady 
Arbella departed this life I uttered a groan. When 
the honest mint-master weighed his plump daughter 
against the pine-tree shillings I chuckled audibly at 
the joke. When old Simon Bradstreet took the place 
of the tyrant Andros I joined in the general huzza, and 
capered on my wooden legs for joy. To be sure, the 
by-standers were so fully occupied with their own feel- 
ings that my sympathy was quite unnoticed." 

" And have you often held a private chat with your 
friends?" asked Grandfather. 

'' Not often," answered the chair. " I once talked 
with Sir William Phips, and communicated my ideas 
about the witchcraft delusion. Cotton Mather had 
several conversations with me, and derived great ben- 
efit from my historical reminiscences. In the days of 
the Stamp Act I whispered in the ear of Hutchinson, 
bidding him to remember what stock his countrymen 
were descended of, and to think whether the spirit 
of their forefathers had utterly departed from them. 
The last man whom I favored with a colloquy was that 
stout old republican, Samuel Adams." 

" And how happens it," inquired Grandfather, " that 
there is no record nor tradition of your conversational 
abilities ? It is an uncommon thing to meet with a 
chair that can talk." 



220 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

" Why, to tell you the truth," said the chair, giving 
itself a hitch nearer to the hearth, " I am not apt to 
choose the most suitable moments for unclosing my 
lips. Sometimes I have inconsiderately begun to speak, 
when my occupant, lolling back in my arms, was in- 
clined to take an after-dinner nap. Or perhaps the 
impulse to talk may be felt at midnight, when the 
lamp burns dim and the fire crumbles into decay, and 
the studious or thoughtful man finds that his brain is 
in a mist. Oftenest I have unwisely uttered my wis- 
dom in the ears of sick persons, when the inquietude 
of fever made them toss about upon my cushion. And 
so it happens, that though my words make a pretty 
strong impression at the moment, yet my auditors in- 
variably remember them only as a dream. I should 
not wonder if you, my excellent friend, were to do the 
same to-morrow morning." 

"Nor I either," thought Grandfather to himself. 

However, he thanked this respectable old chair for 
beginning the conversation, and begged to know 
whether it had anything particular to communicate. 

" I have been listening attentively to your narrative 
of my adventures," replied the chair ; " and it must be 
owned that your correctness entitles you to be held up 
as a pattern to biographers. Nevertheless, there are 
a few omissions which I should be glad to see supplied. 
For instance, you make no mention of the good knight 
Sir Richard Saltonstall, nor of the famous Hugh 
Peters, nor of those old regicide judges, Whalley, 
Goffe, and Dixwell. Yet I have borne the weight of 
all those distinguished characters at one time or an- 
other." 

Grandfather promised amendment if ever he should 
have an opportunity to repeat his narrative. The good 



GRANDFATHER'S DREAM. 221 

old chair, which still seemed to retain a due regard for 
outward appearance, then reminded him how long a 
time had passed since it had been provided with a new 
.cushion. It likewise expressed the opinion that the 
oaken figures on its back would show to much better 
advantage by the aid of a little varnish. 

'-'• And I have had a complaint in this joint," con- 
tinued the chair, endeavoring to lift one of its legs, 
" ever since Charley trundled his wheelbarrow against 
me." 

" It shall be attended to," said Grandfather. " And 
now, venerable chair, I have a favor to solicit. During 
an existence of more than two centuries you have had 
a familiar intercourse with men who were esteemed the 
wisest of their day. Doubtless, with your capacious 
understanding, you have treasured up many an invalu- 
able lesson of wisdom. You certainly have had time 
enough to guess the riddle of life. Tell us, poor mor- 
tals, then, how we may be happy." 

The lion's head fixed its eyes thoughtfully upon the 
fu'e, and the whole chair assumed an aspect of deep 
meditation. Finally it beckoned to Grandfather with 
its elbow, and made a step sideways towards him, as 
if it had a very important secret to communicate. 

" As long as I have stood in the midst of human af- 
fairs," said the chair, with a very oracular enunciation, 
" I have constantly observed that Justice, Truth, 
and Love are the chief ingredients of every happy 
Vfe." 

" Justice, Truth, and Love ! " exclaimed Grand- 
father. " We need not exist two centuries to find 
out that these qualities are essential to our happiness. 
This is no secret. Every human being is born with 
the instinctive knowledge of it." 



222 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

" Ah ! " cried the chair, drawing back in surprise. 
" From what I have observed of the dealings of man 
with man, and nation with nation, I never should have 
suspected that they knew this all- important secret.^ 
And, with this eternal lesson written in your soul, do 
you ask me to sift new wisdom for you out of my 
petty existence of two or three centuries ? " 

" But, my dear chair " — said Grandfather. 

" Not a word more," interrupted the chair ; " here I 
close my lips for the next hundred years. At the end 
of that period, if I shall have discovered any new pre- 
cepts of happiness better than what Heaven has al- 
ready taught you, they shall assuredly be given to the 
world." 

In the energy of its utterance the oaken chair seemed 
to stamp its foot, and trod (we hope unintentionally) 
upon Grandfather's toe. The old gentleman started, 
and found that he had been asleep in the great chair, 
and that his heavy walking-stick had fallen down 
across his foot. 

" Grandfather," cried little Alice, clapping her 
hands, "you must dream a new dream every night 
about our chair ! " 

Laurence, and Clara, and Charley said the same. 
But the good old gentleman shook his head, and de- 
clared that here ended the history, real or fabulous, of 
Grandfather's Chair. 



I 



I 



APPENDIX TO PART III. 

A LETTER FROM GOVERNOR HUTCHINSON NARRATING THE DOINGS 
OF THE MOB. 

TO RICHARD JACKSON. 

Boston, Aug. 30, 1765. 
My dear Sir, — I came from my house at Milton, 
the 26 in the morning. After dinner it was whispered 
in town there would be a mob at night, and that Pax- 
ton, Hallowell, the custom-house, and admiralty offi- 
cers' houses would be attacked ; but my friends assured 
me that the rabble were satisfied with the insult I had 
received and that I was become rather popular. In 
the evening, whilst I was at supper and my children 
round me, somebody ran in and said the mob were 
coming. I directed my children to fly to a secure 
place, and shut up my house as I had done before, in- 
tending not to quit it ; but my eldest daughter repented 
her leaving me, hastened back, and protested she would 
not quit the house unless I did. I could n't stand 
against this, and withdrew with her to a neighboring 
house, where I had been but a few minutes before the 
hellish crew fell upon my house with the rage of devils, 
and in a moment with axes split down the doors and 
entered. My son being in the great entry heard them 
cry: "Damn him, he is upstairs, we'll have him." 
Some ran immediately as high as the top of the house, 
others filled the rooms below and cellars, and others 
remained without the house to be employed there. 



•224 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

Messages soon came one after another to the house 
where I was, to inform me the mob were coming in 
pursuit of me, and I was obliged to retire through 
yards and gardens to a house more remote, where I 
remained until 4 o'clock, by which time one of the 
best finished houses in the Province had nothing re- 
maining but the bare walls and floors. Not contented 
with tearing off all the wainscot and hangings, and 
splitting the doors to pieces, they beat down the parti- 
tion walls ; and although that alone cost them near 
two hours, they cut down the cupola or lanthorn, and 
they began to take the slate and boards from the roof, 
and were 2)revented only by the approaching daylight 
from a total demolition of the building. The garden- 
house was laid flat, and all my trees, etc., broke down 
to the ground. 

Such ruin was never seen in America. Besides 
my plate and family pictures, household furniture of 
every kind, my own, my children's, and servants' ap- 
parel, they carried off about X900 sterling in money, 
and emptied the house of everything whatsoever, ex- 
cept a part of the kitchen furniture, not leaving a 
single book or paper in it, and have scattered or de- 
stroyed all the manuscripts and other papers I had been 
collecting for thirty years together, besides a great 
number of public papers in my custody. The even- 
ing being warm, I had undressed me and put on a 
thin camlet surtout over my waistcoat. The next 
morning, the weather being changed, I had not clothes 
enough in my possession to defend me from the cold, 
and was obliged to borrow from my friends. Many 
articles of clothing and a good part of my plate have 
since been picked up in different quarters of the town, 
but the furniture in general was cut to pieces before 



APPENDIX TO PART III. 225 

it was thrown out of the house, and most of the beds 
cut open, and the feathers thrown out of the windows. 
The next evening, I intended with my chiklren to 
Milton, but meeting two or three small parties of 
the ruffians, who I suppose had concealed themselves 
in the country, and my coachman hearing one of them 
say, " There he is ! " my daughters were terrified and 
said they should never be safe, and I was forced to 
shelter them that night at the Castle. 

The encouragers of the first mob never intended 
matters should go this length, and the people in gen- 
eral expressed the utter detestation of this unparalleled 
outrage, and I wish they could be convinced what in- 
finite hazard there is of the most terrible consequences 
from such demons, when they are let loose in a govern- 
ment where there is not constant authority at hand 
sufficient to suppress them. I am told the government 
here will make me a compensation for my own and 
my family's loss, which I think cannot be much less 
than £3,000 sterling. I am not sure that they will. 
If they should not, it will be too heavy for me, and I 
must humbly apply to his majesty in whose service 
I am a sufferer ; but this, and a much greater sum 
would be an insufficient compensation for the constant 
distress and anxiety of mind I have felt for some time 
past, and must feel for months to come. You cannot 
conceive the wretched state we are in. Such is the 
resentment of the people against the Stamp-Duty, that 
there can be no dependence upon the General Court to 
take any steps to enforce, or rather advise, to the pay- 
ment of it. On the other hand, such will be the effects 
of not submitting to it, that all trade must cease, all 
courts fall, and all authority be at an end. Must not 
the ministry be excessively embarrassed? On the one 



226 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR. 

hand, it will be said, if concessions are made, the Par- 
liament endanger the loss of their authority over the 
Colony : on the other hand, if external forces should 
be used, there seems to be danger of a total lasting 
alienation of affection. Is there no alternative ? May 
the infinitely wise God direct you. 



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